A Masked Ball
by milk3002
Summary: Jane and Maura work a case surrounding one of Boston's biggest theatre moguls while trying to work out their own changing feelings towards one another.
1. Chapter 1

**A Masked Ball**

**Disclaimer: **Rizzoli & Isles and all of its parts belong to Tess Gerritsen, Janet Tamaro and TNT television network.

**Chapter One**

Detective Jane Rizzoli fumbled two plastic sandwich containers as she pushed open the door with her foot, her precarious grip on her lunch made more complicated by the bottles of water that she held tucked under her arm. Upon entering the forensics lab, she saw the routine sight of a corpse lying on one of the two metal slabs that occupied the middle of the room, but did not see the familiar figure of Dr. Maura Isles crouching over it. She shrugged, and debated leaving one of the sandwiches in the morgue refrigerator, but thought better of it and turned back towards the door. A loud clink startled her, and she nearly lost both of the sandwiches as she jumped, startled.

"Is that lunch?" Maura's head popped up from behind one of the metal tables, her inquisitive eyes on the containers Jane held. "I'm starving."

Jane sighed, her heart still pounding. "Anyone ever tell you it's not polite to jump out from behind dead bodies?"

"No," Maura answered earnestly.

"Really? You never took an autopsy etiquette class or anything?" As usual, her sarcasm was lost on the medical examiner.

"It wasn't a core requirement."

"I see," Jane answered, holding up one of the sandwich containers. "Mustard, no mayo, lean turkey on multi-wheat-cardboard-grain. I even had them sprinkle a dash of birdseed over it."

"Speaking of lean meat," Maura murmured, as she pressed a gloved finger along an incision she had made in the corpse's leg. "This guy had to be a marathon runner. I've never seen such lean tissue."

Jane cringed, suddenly regretting her choice of pastrami and swiss. "Yeah, maybe we can eat upstairs?" she said, eyeing the corpse. Over the course of her time in homicide, stiffs had come to bother her less, but that didn't mean she wanted to eat lunch with them.

Maura looked up at her. "Sure," she replied. "I'm almost done here. Just let me finish aerating the synovial tissue."

"Right, can't forget to do that," Jane said with official nod, not bothering to ask Maura for an explanation. Sometimes it was quicker just to nod.

A buzz sounded nearby, and the blonde's head shot up quickly towards her phone, which lay next to her computer on the opposite side of the room. "Oh," she said, disappointed as she stared down at her soiled gloves. "Jane, do you mind checking that text for me?"

The brunette glanced around her, looking for a safe place to deposit the sandwiches, and finally settled on the sterile surface of the computer desk. "Waiting for a determination of solubility of a spleen or something?" she asked.

"Yes, actually. But that's probably Derek."

Jane pursed her lips at the name of Maura's newest suitor, who she had heard about approximately a million times since her friend first slept with him a week earlier. "Derek, the gerontologist?"

Maura laughed, correcting her. "Genealogist."

"Whatever. Old people, old genes, same thing." Jane shrugged, picking up the phone and quickly bypassing its security code, having handled the device quite frequently on behalf of the doctor, who was regularly elbow-deep in body tissue. "Let's see," she said, letting her voice morph into a dramatic whisper as she read the message aloud. "So sorry, babe" - she rolled her eyes – "but I can't make it tonight. Stuck at work." She furrowed a brow. "How is a genealogist 'stuck at work'?" She chuckled, shaking her head, but her laughter faded when she caught sight of the disappointment chiseling itself across Maura's face.

"Shoot," came the blonde's terse, but civil, reply.

"I'm sure he's telling the truth," Jane offered. "Genealogists don't strike me as the douchy type. Plus, anyone would have to have a good reason to cancel on you." She smiled, hoping her words would alleviate at least some of the wrinkles that lined her friend's forehead.

Maura's frown deepened. "I have tickets to _A Masked Ball_tonight. I managed to get them at the last minute from an old friend who pulled a couple of strings." She peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash with more force than usual.

"Why were you taking him to a masked ball? It's not Halloween. Or Mardi Gras."

Maura shook her head, washing her hands in the deep red sink against the wall. "No, _A Masked Ball.__Un ballo in maschera_." She paused, but seeing no comprehension in the brown eyes that stared vacantly back at her, quickly continued. "The opera by Giuseppe Verdi, based on the life and assassination of King Gustav III of Sweden."

Jane gave her a blank look. "Did you tell Derek that's where you were taking him?"

"Of course."

"Well, I'm sure that had nothing to do with him canceling," she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, which earned her an indignant eyebrow from Maura.

"It's a wonderful opera. And it's based in Boston." She caught herself. "Well, technically it's based in Sweden, but upon its first performance in 1859 the Italian government censored Verdi's original version, so he moved the opera's setting to seventeenth century Boston. Although most companies now switch the location back to Sweden, tonight's performance will stage the censored version, in honor of Boston's foremost patriarch of the arts, Charles Landon." She smiled and cocked her head.

Jane didn't try to absorb this new onslaught of unsolicited information, and instead held her lunch container out to the shorter woman. "Eat your sandwich," she commanded.

Maura accepted the food, but fixed an appraising eye on Jane, lingering longer than necessary. "What?" the brunette asked wearily, all too familiar with the gleam that brightened her friend's eyes when processing a new thought, especially one that she knew wouldn't go over well with the detective.

"What are you doing tonight?" Maura asked.

Jane stood quickly, gathering her own sandwich back in her arms. "I'm not going to the opera, that's for sure," she said as she headed for the door, but Maura stepped in her path, looking up at her with a pair of innocently hopeful eyes. Jane wasn't fooled; she knew those eyes could harden in the blink of an eye.

"Jane, it's a beautiful composition, full of texture and substance. It has intrigue, romance, violence."

"So does the baseball game I'll be watching."

"Baseball isn't a violent sport."

"It can be when Frankie and I watch it together."

Maura looked as if she were about to offer another counterargument, but pursed her lips, lifting her chin and crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine. I'll go by myself," she said simply.

Jane looked down at her, skeptical of the sudden change of heart. "You will?"

"Of course. I'll dress up, have a glass of wine, treat myself to one of opera's most enigmatic and well-known composers, and celebrate this wonderful city at the same time." Her eyes flashed and she smiled again, now happy with her decision. Jane felt a pang of disappointment at how easy she had given up on wrangling her into attending the show with her. Maybe this Derek character was putting her in too good a disposition.

Rather than sour the mood, Jane smiled at the smaller woman's enthusiasm. "Good. I think it's perfectly reasonable for you to go by yourself." She reached out and patted the crown of the doctor's head with an exaggerated hand. "You're such a big girl, Maur."

Maura let out a smile, reaching up and grabbing the detective's fingers. "Don't patronize me, Jane."

"How else would I talk to you?" Her laugh was cut short as Maura playfully twisted her hand. "Ow, jeez, save the manhandling for a corpse," she said, jerking her hand out of the doctor's grip. The two women cocked their heads at each other as they paused. "That came out a little questionable," Jane clarified. "Manhandling a corpse would surely not be an okay thing to do."

"Just eat your sandwich, Jane."

"I'm not eating lunch in the death lab. Come upstairs with me. You can regale me with tales of your superhero genealogist."

Maura's face brightened. "He does this thing with his tongue – "

Jane held up a halting hand. "If I wanted to prolong my nausea, I'd just eat down here."

Maura rolled her eyes. "I think he has a dentalized lisp, but I'm not sure. I was going to confirm tonight."

Jane stared down at her, relief and amusement drifting through her chest. "You have a problem, you know that right?"

Maura raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to diagnose _me_now?"

"Yes… with compulsive diagnostic disorder." Jane broke out into a grin. "Now let's go before my stomach eats itself."

Maura nodded, heading through the door that Jane held open for her. "You know that actually can happen. It's called – "

"Mauraaaa," Jane complained, letting the door shut behind them as they made their way out of the deserted morgue to join the living. At least for the lunch hour.

* * *

><p>Maura stood behind her couch, breathing in the glass of wine she had just poured, eliciting a pleasured sigh as the earthy scent of berries and plums wafted towards her. Her blank television stared down at her, and she had a sudden burst of curiosity. She reached down and picked up the remote, flipping through channels until she came upon the baseball game that she was certain Jane was already watching from the comfort of her own couch. She pictured the tall detective tossing a few rough punches to Frankie's shoulder as he called out playful comments about the opposing team, with Angela hovering somewhere in the background. The scene made her smile.<p>

The game, however, did not, and she tilted her head to the side as she stared up at the grass diamond on the screen. "The same, torturously slow pattern over and over again," she said to herself. "How does this stimulate her temporal lobe?" She shook her head. "I just don't get it, Bass," she said down to the tortoise that slowly loped towards her from the kitchen. "People are weird."

The doorbell sounded from the front hallway, and she raised an eyebrow. She wasn't expecting a visitor, or a package, or even a date, unfortunately. She set her wine glass down on the kitchen counter and made her way towards the front door, curiosity piquing her eyebrows. One look out of her peephole and her breath caught in her throat as she saw Jane on her stoop. But this wasn't normal Jane Rizzoli, replete with a v-neck, straight-legged trousers, and a belt buckle the size of a saucer; rather, this was a Jane that Maura rarely glimpsed, but when she did, she always felt her pulse quicken.

"Jane," she said as she opened the door, clearly surprised by her best friend's appearance. She let her eyes run approvingly over the purple dress the detective wore, one that Maura didn't recognize from the many disapproving glances she'd given the brunette's closet over the course of their friendship. "What are you doing here? And since when do you watch baseball in that? Are you going on a date?"

"You could call it that," Jane replied, and gave a dramatic flourish of her hand as she continued. "No one should have to experience Verdi alone. And I figured you paid enough for the ticket, I'd hate to see that kind of money go down the drain." She grinned, taking more than a casual glance at the emerald green fabric that draped Maura's chest, cinching at the waist before flowing freely down her legs. Her honey-blonde hair was swept back, exposing her lithe neck and a pair of matching green earrings. Her regal appearance was only broken by a wide, ecstatic smile as she pulled Jane inside, and the detective couldn't help but feel some sort of pride at knowing that she had been somewhat to thank for the sudden gush of delight.

"This is very exciting, Jane. You won't regret it," Maura promised as she nearly skipped into the kitchen, stepping lightly over Bass.

"Regret, no. Lament, maybe."

"Wine?" Maura asked over her shoulder, ignoring the sarcasm.

Jane didn't answer, her attention focused on the screen in the living room. "Is that baseball I see on your television, Maura?" she asked in disbelief as she stood behind the couch, crossing her arms over her chest.

"What? No. Yes. Well – I was curious to see if I was missing anything."

Jane kept her attention on the game as Maura poured a glass of wine and handed it over to her. The detective glanced down at it and scrunched her nose. "Don't you have a beer?"

Maura squinted a discerning eye, darting a glance up at the television, then back at her friend, who was becoming increasingly absorbed in the action (or lack thereof) on the screen. "Okay," she said, reaching for the remote and flicking it off. "We can have a drink at the theatre. I don't want you changing your mind on me."

Jane reached forward. "Let me just check the score," she said, but Maura pulled the remote out of reach.

"Let's go," she said firmly, unperturbed by the pout her friend gave her as she gathered her purse and pulled the taller woman towards the door.

* * *

><p>"God, what do these people do for a living?" Jane asked, glancing around at the men and women milling near them, their shoulders held as rigidly as their pursed lips. "Besides kill and strip animals of their fur," she said, as another woman in a fur coat brushed past her.<p>

Maura let out a slight chuckle as she dodged a woman in a mink stole. "Fake," she whispered, pointing discreetly at it.

"I feel like I'm judging her less, then," Jane replied. "At least she didn't contribute to the end of a poor animal's life."

"Actually, the labor conditions where that mink was manufactured are probably tortuous. I think we can still judge her."

"Well, I wish you would have told me the fashion requirements. I would have pulled out the old alpaca coat from my parents' closet."

"Your mom had an alpaca coat?" Maura asked with a chuckle.

Jane looked down at her. "Actually, I think it was my dad's."

The chuckle grew louder, and the detective couldn't help but smile. She gave herself a mental pat on the back each time Maura's warm laugh tickled her spine. The laughter died down and Maura cocked her head slightly as she scrutinized Jane with the same concentration she normally reserved for a specimen under her microscope.

"What?" Jane asked. "You have some knowledge of alpacas that you'd like to share?"

The question seemed to catch Maura off guard, and her eyes met Jane's. "No. I'm more familiar with lamas, actually." Her gaze was distracted, though, and the hazel eyes ran back over the detective's torso, causing Jane to shift her stance uncomfortably in her heels. "Where did you get this dress?" Maura asked, reaching a hand out to caress the silk fabric. "I haven't seen it before tonight."

Jane shrugged, ignoring the blaze that Maura's touch sent down her arm. "I bought it a few months ago."

"With who?"

Jane pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, I can pick out clothes on my own, Maura. I don't always need you with me." She hesitated, her voice a pitch quieter as she continued. "Sometimes Ma helps, too."

Maura smiled easily. "I'll say. You look gorgeous."

Jane ignored the rush of blood to her head, and instead took a long sip of her wine. "Well, thank you. Maybe I can attract some wealthy old man who's looking for a woman who isn't covered in fur." She was fully aware that she was blushing, and turned her head to look upwards at the ornate décor that covered the ceiling of the theater. "This opera house is a bit overdone," she said by way of distraction.

"Well, you can thank the Landon family for that. They're responsible for this building. The family's one of the mainstays in the Boston arts community. If a cause has to do with music, art, or literature, chances are they've contributed to it. The Governor is presenting Charles Landon with a key to the city before tonight's show."

Jane looked around her. "They paid for this entire building? The gold etchings, the paintings? Those little spiral thingies up there on the ceiling?"

"No, I'm sure Boston taxpayers helped a little. An investment in the arts is an investment in the city."

"Well, no offense to the arts, but I think the city could use a little more investment in its police force."

"A classic argument, and one that has informed history for centuries. The same disagreement about use of public funds on cultural expenditures plagued Gustav III's entire reign as King of political adversaries used that as a main point in arguing against him."

"Is that why they killed him?"

"A military rival killed him, and cloaked his opposition in political arguments, but it was mostly a personal issue."

"What, did Gustav cheat with the guy's wife or something?"

"Actually, many historical accounts show that Gustav was gay."

Jane looked down at Maura. "I'll never cease to be amazed at how much information you squeeze into that brain of yours."

Maura looked as if she wasn't sure whether it was a compliment or not, but she smiled nonetheless, and made her way towards the threshold that led from the lobby into the theater. Jane followed close behind her as they wove their way through the crowd, the lights dimming to signal the beginning of the show. As Maura eagerly fished for their tickets, double checking the location of their seats, an overly fond usher graciously offered her his arm. Jane stepped in quickly, steering the blonde forward by the small of her back. "I got it, pal," she said to him sternly as Maura offered him an apologetic smile.

As the two settled into their seats, Jane stretching her long legs in front of her as much as the tight rows would allow, Maura looked over at her. "Is this your first opera?"

Jane gave an exaggerated flip of her hair. "Why, no, Dr. Isles, the Rizzoli's are actually season ticket holders to the Boston Fine Arts Plaza. Every Friday night is two-for-one pizza and an opera."

"Your sarcasm can be quite loathsome."

"At least you've learned to tell when it's sarcasm." She smiled, and looked out towards the stage, which was already set for the show, a thin, sheer curtain masking the set. "Thank you for the ticket, Maura," she said sincerely. "I am indeed an opera virgin."

"Ooo," Maura cooed. "I look forward to breaking you in." She giggled, and Jane couldn't help but to sneak a glance over at her friend as she leaned back in her seat, automatically draping her long arm over the back of the the blonde's seat. She caught an older man smirking at her from a nearby row, and quickly removed her hand, placing it safely in her lap.

"So, how long would you say this production runs?" she asked.

Maura looked over at her. "How long would you say the average baseball game runs?"

Jane shrugged. "I don't know, about three hours?"

Maura nodded, turning her attention back to the stage. "That sounds about right."

Jane leaned forward, placing a hand on Maura's forearm. "Wait, this opera lasts three hours? I just read the synopsis in the brochure and it only took ten seconds."

Maura turned fully towards the detective, her eyes suddenly serious. "It's three hours of something spectacularly new, that you've never experienced. Just lean back and listen with me, okay?"

Jane could only nod, as the feel of Maura's hand brushing her bicep rendered her speechless for the moment. She felt Maura give her a small squeeze as she settled back into her seat, and the lights dimmed lower, a burst of music pulsing through the theatre. Even when Maura's hand dropped back into her own lap, the detective's smile didn't fade.

Jane mostly kept herself awake by reading the subtitles, which she was sure were wrong, as it took approximately three minutes of singing for a single word to change on the prompter. The singers were talented, she had to admit, and she found herself riveted by the gusto with which they belted out such raw, expressible emotion, but she was more than ready to straighten her legs when the house lights came on for intermission. She hadn't sat with her legs crossed for that long since her high school graduation. She glanced over at Maura, who leaned forward in her seat, still seemingly enthralled by the stage, and she couldn't help but smile.

"Enraptured, much?" she asked, pressing a hand on Maura's knee to get her attention.

The blonde turned to look at her, a dreamy expression glazing over her hazel eyes. "Aren't you?" she asked, eagerly. "Aren't you just on the edge of your seat to see what happens?"

"No, because you already told me it's an opera about an assassination. I think I know how it's gonna end."

"There are still some twists and turns to be seen, Jane. It's not over yet."

"Huh. And the fat lady has already sung. Ruins that expression for me." Jane shrugged. "I kind of feel for this Amelia woman. Someone needs to tell her that this will only end badly for her."

Maura looked over at her with a lingering smile, and once again Jane felt that familiar mix of exhilaration and anxiousness flutter through her stomach.

"What?" she asked.

"I think I'm having more fun with you than with Derek."

Jane snorted. "That's not the compliment you think it is, Maur. Of _course_you're having more fun with me. He's a genealogist, for crying out loud. You could be sitting next to a corpse and have more fun."

Maura shrugged. "That's actually true, but only because of my occupation." She glanced over at the brunette. "Nevertheless, Derek is very smart."

"He dresses like a librarian."

Maura chuckled, shaking her head. "You've never met him, Jane."

"I have to pee," Jane said, tapping Maura's leg, all too ready to halt their conversation about Derek as soon as possible. "Can't wait to see how long the line to the ladies room is at this place." She leveraged herself out of her seat by pressing onto Maura knee. "Need another glass of wine?"

"I would love one, but I'll come with you. No need for you to face such a long bathroom line alone," she said with a pump of her first.

Jane chuckled. "What are friends for?" She reached down and offered Maura her hand. "Shall we, my fair lady?" Her face reddened immediately at the formality of her gesture, but before she could pull away her hand, the medical examiner accepted it, and stood with a bright smile.

"You certainly know how to make a girl feel special," Maura quipped, brushing past her as she made her way toward the aisle. As they made her way to the lobby, Maura willed her the tingle in her hand to go away. She had felt such a sensation increasingly over the past few weeks, every time Jane touched her, and she was worried at the effect it was having. She recognized her attraction to her friend as a simple expression of objective sexuality. After all, Jane was a beautiful woman, and it was perfectly normal for Maura to recognize that. But lately, she had trouble compartmentalizing her feelings, and the realization of that would pop out in embarrassing ways, much like her presently flushed cheeks.

"Whoa, Maur, where's the fire," Jane called, catching up to her with a harried stride.

"You can't say that in a crowded building," Maura replied automatically, appreciating the way her brain switched over to the side with which she was most comfortable. She belonged in a world of facts and clear distinctions, no matter how difficult Jane made that for her. She turned back to her friend, watching with a smile as she made her way precariously forward on her teetering heels.

"Actually, unless my comments cited unneeded chaos, I am fully protected by the First Amendment." Jane smiled at the blonde's raised eyebrows. "I know my shit, too, sometimes," she said. "Comes with being a cop."

The two wound their way towards the lobby, artfully dodging the rest of the opera's patrons. In her heels, Jane could easily see over the crowd. She caught a glimpse of a small throng of people in one corner, surrounding what looked to be the governor and the man she suspected was the infamous arts supporter, Charles Landon. "Oh look," she said, pointing. "It's the Governor, hobnobbing with his biggest campaign supporter."

Maura craned her neck, unsuccessfully. "Where?" she asked. "I would love to thank Mr. Landon for his support of the Boston Scientific Literature Society. It's the largest literature club in the nation that's devoted specifically to scientific narrative."

She was cut off by a groan from Jane. Who had just caught a glimpse of the line to the restroom. "My god, would you look at this?" she complained. "I'll be waiting all the way until the third act."

Maura thought for a moment. "That won't do. You'll miss Amelia's declaration of love."

Jane sighed. "These are the moments when I wish I was a man."

"Actually, men urinate longer than women, it just takes them less time to complete the whole restroom process. But if you base it on strictly on volume, then – "

"Maura, please stop talking." Jane squeezed her legs together. "This is verging on an emergency for me."

Maura raised her eyebrows, and the gleam in her eye was as bright as a lightbulb. "We can't have that." She grabbed Jane's wrist. "Come on."

"Maura, what are you doing?"

"Excuse me," the medical examiner called, stepping out of the line and dragging Jane with her towards the front. "Excuse me," she repeated, flashing her medical examiner badge. "I need to get this woman inside quickly. It's an emergency."

"Maura," Jane whispered under her breath. "What the hell are you doing?"

The women moved easily to the side, most wearing a concerned expression on their wrinkled faces as they let Maura and Jane pass through the door to the restroom. "Ah," Maura said as they made their way through the plush, carpeted powder room that lead into the restroom, complete with marble floors and countertops. She pushed Jane inside the last stall, locking it behind her and giving the detective a wide smile.

"What the hell was that?" the brunette hissed.

"Well, we can't wait, we might miss something." She gestured toward the toilet. "Pee. You can thank me later."

"You lied to get in front of the line."

"No, I didn't. You said it was an emergency."

Jane rolled her eyes and looked expectantly up at Maura. "Turn around," she insisted.

Maura rolled her eyes and faced the door, waiting patiently. "I believe these doors are mica," she said, running her fingertips over the shiny surface. Jane rolled her eyes, finishing her part of the process as quickly as possible before quickly shoving Maura back out to the sinks.

"Feel better?" Maura asked with a bright smile as they exited.

"Fortunately for you, yes," Jane replied, her head down as she passed by the same line of women that she had surpassed a few minutes earlier. She gave them a beleaguered half-smile as they stared back at her, one woman actually reaching out and touching her forearm.

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked, concerned.

Jane pulled her arm away, nodding with a polite smile. "Just got a little overheated," she replied, pushing Maura away from the curious women. Before the doctor could register firm grip on her arm, a lone scream sounded from the far side of the room, stopping both women in their tracks.

"He's shot!"

The scream quickly escalated into a collective gasp as the people in the room seemed to move as one throng towards the nearest exits. Jane's grip tightened around Maura's arm as the crowd attempted to pummel past them, jostling them within a pool of panic as the two women fought in the opposite direction, attempting to make their way to the site of the commotion.

A confused cluster of men hovered over the fallen body of a large man, who seemed to be peacefully at rest, aside from the pool of blood that leaked from his back. Jane quickly fished her badge out of her purse, raising it towards them. "Rizzoli, BPD," she said, looking around her.

A man looked up at her from where he knelt on the ground, attempting to hedge the blood flow. She immediately recognized him as the mayor. "I don't know what the hell happened," he said. "Everything was fine, and he just collapsed."

Jane looked over at Maura, whose mouth dropped open in shock. "It's Charles Landon," she whispered.

Jane looked down at him, the man's identity sending her reeling mind even further. "Can you help him?" she asked, her own attention focused on trying to make some sense out of the chaos around her.

Maura nodded as she knelt beside the mayor, edging him gently out of the way as she took over, already calling out directions. "Call 911 now," she commanded, placing her fingers along the injured man's torso. "Don't move him."

Jane quickly grabbed a man in a security guard who was coming towards her, a walkie talkie in his hand. "I want every man you got at the doors," she said. "Block this area, but no one leaves, you got me?" He nodded, his eyes as wide as saucers as he stared back at her, seemingly grateful for some direction. Jane kept moving, her eyes on a nearby side exit. She ran towards it, bursting through the doors and staring down a deserted alley. "Damn it," she said, straining her ears, but hearing nothing but the sounds of commotion still coming from inside the theatre. She yanked the door back open, hating the helplessness that encompassed her. She pushed it back with a scowl, and focused instead on heaping orders at the lone security guard coming towards her.

"You. Stay on this door. No one leaves," she commanded, walking quickly back towards the injured man, where Maura was leaning over him.

"How is he?" Jane asked as she knelt down, suddenly aware of how short her dress was, yanking it quickly over her knees. She looked over at the doctor's face, which was still angled towards the man, a confused glint in her eye.

"He's dead."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Jane was tired, her hand pressed against her temple as she leaned against the wall. Her head throbbed, her adrenaline was fast morphing into exhaustion, and the tightness of her dress was keeping yer from exerting the type of authority that she normally commanded when wearing her usual slacks and jacket. She had felt foolish enough when trying to fish her badge out of her cluttered clutch, and insult only added to injury every time she caught a fellow officer eyeing her cleavage.

She had spent the past hour attempting to sequester over five hundred impeccably dressed, extremely wealthy Bostonians into the main ballroom while she and her fellow officers could piece together what had caused Charles Landon's untimely collapse. The theatre management, however, seemed more concerned about the comfort of its most wealthy patrons and donors than in allowing the police do their job. Jane's voice was now as hoarse as if she'd spent the past hour attempting to mimic the opera's lead soprano, only she didn't have an enamored audience, or any evidence, to show for it. She lifted her head as Korsak walked towards her, his head buried in a copy of the opera's program.

"Shame it ended so soon," he said, with his usual tone that toed the line between sarcasm and sincerity. "Looks quite riveting."

Jane curled her lip into a sneer and reached out, snatching the promotional booklet from him. "Let me see that," she said, flipping to the synopsis she had read earlier.

"If you want to know the ending," Korsak said, motioning behind him towards Maura, who leaned against a far wall, her cell phone pressed to her ear, "Doc can tell you all about it."

"I think we just saw the ending play out in reality," Jane said slowly, with a shake of her head as she read back over the text that had run through her mind since Landon's death. She read the text aloud to Korsak: "_Riccardo's and Amelia's course is thwarted forever when a political enemy takes their fate into his own hand_." She tossed the playbill back towards her former partner, its pages fluttering with the force. The lobby had emptied out, and the floor was littered with scattered brochures and abandoned wine glasses, remnants of the panic that played out during the chaos. "We don't have much of a crime scene," she said.

"Well hopefully we'll be able to map out what happened with the surveillance tapes and those that were closest to Landon when he died," Korsak said.

"It doesn't help that they were handing out these masks like it was freaking Mardi Gras," inputted a uniformed Frankie as he walked over to them carrying a bright purple and pink mask and pressing it against his eyes.

"Goes well with your skin," Korsak retorted.

Jane sighed towards her younger brother. "Frankie, we let everyone go besides those that were closest to Landon when he went down?"

He nodded. "Yep. We got contact information for most, but everyone's been cleared to leave except for security guards, ushers, volunteers, and theatre staff. We're taking statements now."

Jane nodded. "Flag any that need following up, and Frost and I will take care of them tomorrow."

"Where is Frost, by the way?" Korsak asked.

"Pulling the surveillance tapes," Jane replied. "Let's just hope they actually tell us something." She glanced back toward the far wall, where she had last seen Maura, but the blonde was no there. Jane had barely been able to say two words to her during the commotion, but did take note of the sadness in her eyes when she had pronounced Landon dead. "Where did Maura go?" she asked, not expecting an answer from Korsak and Frankie, who had both turned their attention back to ordering the crime scene techs around the lobby. 

* * *

><p>"Great, thank you, Stuart," Maura said as she paced the small waiting area outside of the women's restroom, the only quiet space she had been able to find. "I'll be down tonight to take a cursory look, but that's it. We'll save the Y-incision for tomorrow." She sighed as she hung up the phone, pinching the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger in a lame attempt at warding off the headache she felt spreading from her occipital lobe to her temples. The forensic techs had wheeled Landon's body away more than half an hour ago, and yet she still felt shaky, as if there was still something she could have done to save the man's life. She shook the image of his wide, staring eyes from her mind, forcing her thoughts onto more trivial matters. For instance, where had she last left her purse? By now, some uniform had probably collected it as evidence, and she would need her badge to gain access to the lab at such a late hour.<p>

Turning abruptly back to the main lobby, she rounded a corner and let out quiet yelp of surprise as she barreled straight into the warm, broad chest of a man at least a foot taller than her. A pair of large hands steadied her, and she looked up, immediately recognizing the tanned and chiseled face of Todd Landon. He resembled his father: they had the same facial bone structure, with a prominent jaw line and a wide, expressive forehead.

"Sorry," he said, quickly, letting his hands drop from her shoulders. "I just needed to go some place quiet." He looked down at her with a pair of brown, distracted eyes. He had long abandoned his suit jacket and tie, and the sleeves of his wrinkled dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows.

Maura looked at him sympathetically, but found herself grasping for words. She often lacked the verbal capacity to comfort a victim, which is one of the reasons she preferred working with deceased clients. "I'm sorry about your father," she said, her voice low, all too aware that her words fell short of anything remotely comforting.

Todd seemed to look right through her, his gaze unfocused, as if he was visualizing the moments before his father's death all over again. "I can't even remember what happened before he collapsed," he said. "I can't remember images, sounds, nothing. I just remember him falling."

Maura shifted her stance, her voice a bit more confident. "You may find that those memories are recovered later, once your brain has processed what happened. Right now they're stored in the viseo-spatial sketchpad, and are still being encoded into working memory. Just give it time."

He let out a clipped chuckle. "You sound like my mother."

The medical examiner frowned up at him, unable to interpret his meaning. "Was she a doctor?"

"A neuroscientist." He laughed. "She studied musical syntax and the brain, mostly. One of the reasons she and my father were perfect for each other. He brought the art to the table, and she dissected it. My entire childhood consisted of the two of them saturating me with music and then explaining its exact effect on my psyche. I knew _A Masked Ball _by heart by the time I was seven."

He looked down at her, and seemed almost startled by his own abrupt burst of honesty. Maura merely nodded, hoping she could at least offer him some small comfort, even through the gift of distraction. "Verdi was a genius," she replied. "Especially at orchestral and contrapuntal innovation."

"His art imitated life," Todd said, a frown curling his lips downward. "Passion and social order, nobility versus power." His brown eyes suddenly pinned her, as if he remembered the role she had played in his father's death. "Why wasn't there more blood?" he asked. "He was shot, wasn't he? My mother said he was shot."

Maura felt a metallic taste on her tongue, as if her body was already anticipating the lie she wanted to tell Todd Landon so as to make his father's death seem natural. Instead, she relied on the truth. "I don't know that for certain," she responded.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, this time so softly that it seemed he was talking to himself. "Why couldn't we save him?"

His words weren't accusatory, but Maura felt her mouth dry up and her throat tighten. "I will find out what happened to your father," she assured him.

"Whoever did this," Todd said, his tone slightly skewed, a bit breathless, "had his own notions about life imitating art." He kicked at a program that lay at his feet. "I need to get back to my mother," he said, already turning back towards the lobby.

Maura watched him go, unable to follow him. Instead, she put a hand to her temple, refocusing her thoughts on the tasks at hand. She needed to do a once-over on the body, take photos, and document measurements and anything out of the ordinary. That she could do. That was what she was good at doing. She took a deep breath, and made her way back out into the sea of uniforms in which she was so adept at navigating. 

* * *

><p>Jane stared back at Frost, who looked at her with an almost apologetic expression. "What do you mean, you didn't see anything?" she asked.<p>

"I mean exactly that, Jane. I didn't see anything on the tapes when I gave them a cursory look. The lobby was packed, and there was a crowd of people around Landon. There's no way to tell right off the bat if anything was out of the ordinary."

"A man died in the middle of a crowd. Something was definitely out of the ordinary," she said, glancing down at the patch of carpet where Landon had died. She tilted her gaze upwards, scanning the ceiling. "There's no place for a sniper to take a shot from above. This had to happen on the ground, by someone in close proximity to him."

"I'm not saying we won't see anything once we slow down the tape and blow it up. But I need to do that at the precinct," Frost said, his calmness a counter to his partner's frustration.

Korsak spoke up. "Do we know how the hell he died? We're certain it was a gunshot?"

"No," Jane said, shaking her head as she perused the room once more for Maura, who was still nowhere in sight. The detective was beginning to think she'd followed the forensics team back to the lab, but that seemed unlike her, as the doctor's scientific eye was usually needed to scan the surrounding crime scene. "Maura wasn't able to make a determination yet, but it looks like he was shot. I'm guessing a silencer of some sort."

"You know I don't like it when you assume."

Jane swung her head towards the medical examiner's voice, watching as she closed the gap between them. "Where have you been?" she asked, her tone a combination of concern and a dash of frustration, a mix of emotions that the medical examiner was more than familiar with.

"I was on a call," Maura replied. "But I wouldn't be so quick to say that a bullet is what killed him."

"Why not?"

Maura shook her head. "I'd rather not take a stab in the dark - "

"Was he stabbed?"

Maura pursed her lips, and Jane almost smiled at her aggravation. "Stop putting words into my mouth. No, he wasn't stabbed." She cocked her head. "Unless it was with a number fifteen blade, which wouldn't do enough damage to kill him."

Jane glanced over at Frost, then Korsak. "Well, I think it's safe to say that we got nothing. Except maybe a copycat."

"A copycat of who, exactly?" Frost asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jane bent down and picked up a littered program. "Of Renato."

Maura gawked. "I'm impressed that you read the synopsis, Jane, but you can't assume that's what happened here."

The brunette brandished the program. "Do I need to remind you of the ending?" she asked.

Maura cocked her head. "I'm perfectly familiar with the ending _of one of my favorite operas_," she emphasized.

"If someone were recreating the show," Korsak said, "then wouldn't they have gone after the Mayor? Wouldn't he be the closest thing to Gustav?"

Both Jane and Frost raised their eyebrows at him, but Maura gave him an encouraging smile. "You're familiar with the libretto?" she asked.

Jane rolled her eyes as Korsak gave the doctor a demure smile. "As far as he's concerned, a libretto is an Italian coffee." She shook her head. "Look, who knows if this is a copycat or not, but someone had a lot of balls to pull this off in a crowded theatre."

Frost nodded in agreement. "Whoever it was, they wanted to make a pretty public statement."

Jane glanced over at him. "And if that's the case, chances are they want to enjoy toying with us."

Korsak followed her train of thought. "Our killer could still be here," he said. "We've still got the group closest to Landon holed up in the manager's office." He glanced from Frost to Jane. "They've been vetted by the blues, but I think we should have our own little chat, what do you say?"

Jane nodded, placing a finger to her lip. "Hold on. I want to interview everyone at the precinct. If someone's got something to hide, then chances are a police station might make them sweat. Let's take them down for questioning." Jane fumbled in her purse that she had draped sideways across her torso. "Here," she said, handing her keys towards Maura. "Why don't you take the car, I'll have Korsak drop me off at home."

The medical examiner shook her head. "No. If you're working, then I'm working. I'll head to the lab and start my cursory examination."

Jane sighed. "Maura, they put the bodies in refrigerators so you don't have to do the autopsy at midnight on a Friday. Just go home."

The fiery glance the doctor gave her was enough to make Jane bring her hand back to her side and drop her keys discreetly back into her purse. "You're stubborn, Maura."

"You're bossy, Jane."

"All right," Korsak sighed as he tossed a glance towards Frost. "We'll head out. I'll leave you to argue about who's going to drive."

Neither woman blinked as both responded immediately: "I'm driving."

Korsak took a deep breath and hitched his thumb toward Frost. "We'll just let you two ladies work that out," he said. "See you at the precinct." 

* * *

><p>Maura fingered the small, tattered hole of Landon's dress shirt. Only a thin trail of blood had coated the white material, not enough for the damage that a bullet would have done. She measured the hole, recording it on her clipboard with a question mark beside it. Whatever had made the hole in Landon's body, it had been small and lethal, but it wasn't a bullet.<p>

She pressed her fingers against his back, feeling along the latissimus dorsi to see if she could feel the projectile through the skin, but she felt nothing. His body showed all the signs of cardiac arrest, leading her to believe that whatever had entered his body, it had done most of the damage once it was already lodged inside him. She shook her head. It didn't look like Landon would tell her anything until she cut him open.

Letting the body fall gently to its original position on its back, she glanced at her watch. It was after midnight, but she reached for her scalpel anyway, her attention not wavering even when Jane burst through the lab doors. "All right," she said, making her way around the metal slab. "I've been in heels too long. It's time to go."

Maura looked up at her, the scalpel pausing just above Landon's left shoulder. Although hours of investigative work had rumpled Jane just a bit, she still held an aloof beauty that she couldn't help but admire. That, however, wasn't enough to keep her mind off her frustration with the body below her. She shook her head down at it. "He's just not talking to me."

Jane looked from Maura down to the cadaver on her table and raised her eyebrows. "That's a good thing, right?" she asked uncertainly. More often than not, Maura seemed more comfortable with the bodies in her lab than with real people, but tonight Jane noticed her shoulders were tense and she was having trouble concentrating. Maura Isles was flustered.

"Do you know what killed him?" Jane asked, hoping to bring her friend back to the task at hand instead of wherever her thoughts were taking her.

Maura tightened her grip on her scalpel. "No. Everything I'm seeing indicates that he died from cardiac arrest. The sudden loss of a heartbeat, the way his body just..." she paused for a moment before clearing her throat, but Jane caught her hesitation. "The way his body expired while I worked on him happened way too quickly for a bullet to do that type of damage." She pointed along his back. "If a bullet had lodged its way into his lower back, it could have traveled across the lungs or possibly the kidneys, depending on the angle. It would have made for a much slower death. It would have also given us more time." She looked down at her instrument tray for a moment, as if her tools could give her an answer that her mind couldn't.

"He may have had a heart condition," Jane offered, the curl of her lip mimicking the raise of her eyebrow, an expression that Maura had seen many times before when the detective was attempting to make her feel better.

She nodded, giving Jane an appreciative half-smile. "Maybe. I'll find out more once I start the Y-incision." She moved her scalpel back over Landon's torso, her face morphed into a concentrated mask.

Jane started to reach for the knife, but thought better of it, instead stopping the doctor with words. "Wait, Maur, you're not going to start it now?"

"Yes, of course I am."

"Sweetheart, it's after one in the morning. I think the best thing we can do right now is grab a few hours of sleep." She saw the exhaustion in Maura's face and the rigid way she held the scalpel.

"Jane, I can do this in my sleep. I've done 523 autopsies."

"Well, you win the medical examiner of the year award, Maura, congratulations." She paused, changing her tone. "I just think this would best be done tomorrow, when you have a full staff to help you out. I can guarantee you they will be more helpful than I will be. And probably less sarcastic."

Maura smiled quickly, but shook her head. "Whatever killed him is lodged inside his body, I'm guessing somewhere along the left side of his kidney. I need to find it. Whatever it is could tell us who we're looking for."

Jane let a moment pass between them, and she studied the blonde's face before continuing softly. "You did everything you could for him."

Maura exhaled, dropping her scalpel back onto its tray with a loud clink. She knew the facts of life and death, expiration versus being saved, and she had done everything that she could to help Charles Landon. Still, he had died. "How did the interviews go?" she asked, changing the subject.

Jane pointed down to her dress. "In this outfit? Great. I felt like I really showed them who's boss."

Maura laughed. "I'm surprised that dress didn't coerce a confession."

Jane more than adored the attention Maura was bestowing upon her with her eyes, but she felt her face redden. "No one seemed to see anything," she said. "One witness says she thought she saw a man acting strange just before the hit, another says he thought a woman did it. All they can agree on is that they never saw it coming, and only realized what had happened after Mrs. Landon's scream."

"What about the surveillance tapes?"

"Nothing solid. Shows what we already knew. That the lobby was packed, and about half the patrons had their faces covered in masks. Landon's son and wife were both by his side when he collapsed." She glanced down at the body. "Maybe once you determine what exactly killed him, we'll be able to figure out how much lead time that gave our perp, and we can map it out from there."

"What about the Mayor?"

Jane shrugged, a clear indication that her interview with the official probably hadn't gone well, which wasn't a surprise to Maura. She knew her friend wasn't one to respect authority simply because a person occupied a political office. "He's upping his security. He thinks this was a targeted hit gone wrong," Jane said with a laugh. "If an assassin has aim this bad, though, he should feel pretty damn safe."

"Most violent crime is the result of personal disagreement," Maura said. "Not political dissatisfaction. At least in this country."

"Tell that to Verdi," Jane said with an exaggerated sweep of her hands. "Come on, Maur, we're both exhausted. And I've got to be back at the theatre in a few hours."

"Is that a part of your gumshoe thing?" Maura asked innocently.

Jane rolled her eyes, and attempted a comeback, but opted for honesty instead. "If you must know, Frost and I will be going through the theatre's trash. Call it what you want."

Maura gave her a smile. "I would definitely call that gumshoe."

Another roll of the brown eyes let Maura know that she had succeeded in getting under her friend's skin. "Okay," she said, peeling off her gloves and heading towards the sink. "Come on, Sam Spade, help me get this body into the refrigerator." She giggled, but when Jane didn't respond, she turned back to her. "Sam Spade is the 1930s fictional character from Dashiell Hammet's _The Maltese Falcon_, famously immortalized by Humphrey Bogart in the 1941 film of the same name."

"What do I have to do to convince you to select your pop culture references within the last fifty years?"

"Make better pop culture icons."

"I'm on it." Jane placed her hands on the metal gurney. "Now let's get your stiff in the fridge."

The two of them wheeled the body towards the refrigerator, and slid him in, with Maura marking a nameplate on the door. "Okay," she said softly, turning back to the brunette. "Take me home." 

* * *

><p>Jane tossed her rumpled dress onto Maura's guest bed, replacing it with the much softer fabric of a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, sighing in relief as she plopped onto the comforter. Jane had expected their night at the opera to put her to sleep, not rile her up. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was still buzzing, and she wondered if Maura was experiencing the same problem in her own bedroom down the hall. She was probably meditating or doing something equally earthy to calm herself down.<p>

Jane glanced at her phone, not surprised to see a text from her mother: _Walked and fed Jo Friday for you. Sorry your night at the opera ended badly. Have you met the man in 8C, he's very charming. And likes dogs._She tossed the phone onto the night stand with a sigh and wondered which would be worse: her mother setting her up with guys or with women? She shuddered, the notion of both sending a chill up her spine.

A soft knock sounded at the door and Maura poked her head in without waiting for a response. "I can't sleep," she said, easing into the room, wearing a pair of yoga pants and an oversized henley.

"Where are your silk PJs, Doctor Isles?" Jane asked with a sarcastic smile.

"I save those for nights when I'm pampering myself."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "I thought you saved those for nights when you had male visitors."

Maura laughed. "I'd be wearing a lot less than silk pajamas if I had a male visitor, trust me," she said as she eased onto the bed next to her.

Jane pursed her lips. "So, I'm relegated to sweatpants? What am I, chopped liver?" Maura giggled, but didn't respond, and Jane hurried over her comment, already feeling the redness creeping into her cheeks. "I can't sleep, either," she continued. "Nights like this I always feel guilty just for thinking about sleep."

"It's endorphins. Adrenaline." Maura became quiet, and Jane glanced over at her, expecting to see her eyes closed in a silent meditation. Instead, they were wide open and unseeing, staring vaguely up at the ceiling.

"What's going on in that brain of yours?" Jane asked, placing a hand behind her head.

"Nothing," came the short, distracted response.

"I don't believe that for a second," she said, looking sideways at her. "The day you have nothing going on in your mind is a day when pigs fly and cows jump over the moon. And Angela Rizzoli goes a whole day without setting me up with a neighbor."

"If pigs had lighter bones, then technically - "

"Please don't dissect that expression, Maur, it's withstood the test of time." Jane turned to look at her. "Just tell me what's going on in there."

Maura tossed her an anxious glance. "I don't normally have the opportunity to work on a living person," she said slowly. "It's one thing to help the dead by solving the crimes connected to their demise, but it's wholly another to watch them die in front of you." She shook her head, as if trying to shake off a feeling that weighed on her. "I didn't like it."

Jane turned to her side, resting her head on the palm of her hand. "That may be the understatement of the year," she said. "Of course you didn't like it, Maura. But what happened to Landon wasn't your fault. No one could have saved him."

"I know."

"I encourage you, for once, to actually listen to the logical part of your brain."

"The frontal lobe?"

Jane nodded. "Yes, of course. Use that."

Maura smiled. "And that won't make me a cyborg?"

"Of course it will. But at least you'll get a good night's sleep." She grinned, and waited until Maura's eyes met her own. "You did everything you could for Charles Landon tonight. And now you're going to do everything you can to make sure that we put whoever did this behind bars. And that's all you need to do."

Maura sighed. "Okay. I feel better."

"Good." Jane rotated to her original position on her back, and tilted her head up, staring at the large painting that adorned the far wall. "I don't understand why you don't have a television in here."

"Why would I have a television in the bedroom? It would stimulate brainwaves at the exact moment when they should be preparing for sleep."

"TV lulls me to sleep," Jane insisted.

"Technically, it just lulls your left brain into a sort of stupor. The right brain is still busy processing images."

"Whatever. There's nothing like the History Channel to get me to sleep."

Maura's eyes widened and she raised her head off the pillow. "What? The History Channel _always_stimulates my left brain."

Jane let out a laugh. "Too bad they don't pump history podcasts over the speakers at the gym. It would really get the blood flowing." The doctor was silent, and Jane glanced over at her. "You listen to talk radio while you're working out, don't you?"

"The Brain Science podcast can be quite invigorating."

The brunette snorted, and Maura playfully pushed her arm. "Don't knock it until you try it."

"I don't think I need to perform experimental analysis to test the rightness of my hypothesis on this one," Jane said with a smile. "You, my dear friend, are a nerd."

Maura looked over at her and shrugged, as if confused. "Of course I am."

Her earnestness was rewarded with a wide smile from Jane, who flipped back on her side, clearly restless. "Well, luckily I prefer you that way." She fidgeted with her hand for a moment. "Tell me the rest of the opera," she said.

Maura shrugged her off with a laugh. "Why, so you can fall asleep?"

"Maybe." Jane reached a hand out, and playfully pushed Maura's arm. "Come on, I'm serious. Tell me the rest of the story."

"You already know the ending."

"Not all of it. I don't know what happens to Amelia. Or Renato." She raised an eyebrow. "You should enjoy this, you know. When do you think I'll ever ask you to regale me with operatic tales again?"

Maura bit her lip. "You have a point." She turned, mirroring Jane's position, and leaned up on her elbows.

"Yes," Jane replied. "Tell me what would have happened should the show not have been interrupted by a homicide."

Maura pursed her lips. "So far, the manner of death has only been classified as suspicious. We don't know if it was a homicide."

Jane shook her head. "Fine. Just tell me the story."

The medical examiner took a deep breath. "Well, in Act III Renato decides that he must kill Amelia for her betrayal. She, of course, begs his forgiveness and after asking to see her son once more, Renato is plagued with guilt and decides that it is actually Riccardo who must die. He colludes with Riccardo's enemies, and it is decided that Renato himself will strike the deathly blow at the masked ball.

Meanwhile, Riccardo has decided to renounce his love for Amelia, and to send both her and Renato back to England, so as to rid his love from his soul. As Riccardo tells Amelia of his decision, Renato stabs Riccardo in the back. Before he dies, Riccardo confesses his love for Amelia, but says that she never once broke her marriage vows." She paused. "And that's where it ends."

Jane cringed. "That's certainly depressing," she said. "This is where you were going to take your date?"

"Verdi was famous for sifting out bland characters in his operas. He preferred those with the most passion." She let her head drop down on her arm, stifling a small yawn, her impeccable manners thriving despite her exhaustion. Jane couldn't help but mimic her yawn, but didn't bother masking the gesture.

"Ultimate sacrifice, I guess," the brunette replied. "Riccardo and Renato showed their passion for Amelia in different ways. One had to do with love, the other with honor. I guess it's a romantic story." Her eyes fluttered and she could feel the threat of sleep creeping over her. "Is that why you like it so much?" she asked softly.

Maura lazily swiped her hand over at Jane, a tired smile gracing her lips. "Romance is nothing more than the stimulation of dopamine in the right caudate nucleus and the right ventral tegmental."

Jane laughed. "Keep telling yourself that, Maura," she said, letting her fingers trace the blonde's hand, which lay stretched out towards her. It was an intimate gesture, but for some reason it felt completely natural and she took some comfort in the soft, smooth skin. "You can't rationalize everything, you know."

Maura murmured into her pillow, probably something just as indecipherable as her last statement, but Jane's eyes were already half closed, her mind someplace closer to sleep. She let her eyelids finally close, surrendering to her fatigue. The last thing she registered was Maura's own submission into sleep, a small, comforted smile on her lips.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jane awoke abruptly, the images of a dream that she couldn't quite remember still dancing like shadows in her head. She squinted one eye toward the early morning light that wafted through the window, her mind quickly processing the familiar surroundings of Maura's guest bedroom. The soft skin that touched her own, however, was quite unfamiliar, and it sent a pleasurable warmth through her as she focused on the still sleeping form of Maura, who was lying on her stomach, one hand stretched forward and resting lightly Jane's bare shoulder.

The detective tried not to shift her body as she reached over for her phone, its illuminated screen telling her that could at least grab another half hour of sleep before she had to drag herself out of bed and away from Maura's touch, which she was greatly enjoying. The abrupt, intrusive thought caught her off guard, exposing a growing feeling that she had been trying to prevent from taking root in her mind. Maura was her friend, and it was wrong to lay in bed and think of her in any capacity other than that. Jane shifted, the desire to disturb her own happiness coming from something deeply unresolved inside her mind.

The movement provoked a small murmur from the blonde, who peeped an eye open towards Jane. "Why are you in my bed?" she asked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"You're in my bed," Jane replied, more than cognizant of the fact that Maura hadn't yet reclaimed her hand from its perch on her shoulder, she stumbled over her words as she continued. "Okay, technically it's yours, but for all intents and purposes, last night it was supposed to be mine."

Maura sat up, her hair tussled, but it still cascaded over her shoulders in neat waves. "When did I fall asleep?" she asked, perplexed.

"Probably halfway between our discussion of the History Channel and Verdi's operatic fourths."

"Octets," Maura corrected, stifling a yawn. "I remember how in college I could stay up all night discussing the tonal differences of Verdi and Wagner." She shook her head. "I'm getting old."

Jane raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Of course. That must be it." She glanced down at her phone. "It probably had more to do with exhaustion. It's only 6:14."

"We got 4 hours and 13 minutes worth of sleep," Maura replied, her brain effortlessly computing the numbers, and Jane had to wonder how her friend sometimes resembled a scientific calculator than an actual person.

She confirmed the medical examiner's calculation using her fingers, a more crude method of counting, but one that worked just as well. "You're right," she said, stretching her arms over her head. "In my book, this gives me full right to wake up on the wrong side of the bed."

"The actual phrase is, 'You got out of bed with the left leg foremost,'" the doctor replied. "It stems from an ancient belief that doing anything with your left side was unlucky. Putting on your left shoe first, pulling up your left trouser leg first, getting out of bed with your left foot." She glanced over at Jane, taking note of their positions in the bed. "But, I guess you are getting out of bed on the wrong side," she said with pleased chuckle.

"You have a lot of fun in that world of yours, don't you?" Jane asked.

"Want me to make you some breakfast?" Maura offered. "Granola and fruit before you leave?"

"As appetizing as that sounds, I gotta go let Jo Friday out for a walk before I head into the precinct." Jane glanced over at the doctor, noting the downcast eyes. "Why don't we meet at the cafe in an hour?" she offered, wondering how often her friend looked forward to their shared breakfasts at the precinct cafe. The food wasn't that good, which Jane was the first to admit, even if her mother did help run the place, but somehow the two of them managed to find an excuse to have breakfast at least three times a week.

Maura nodded, but uncertainty flashed across her face, pursing her lip. "I don't think their fruit is fresh on Saturdays."

"Yeah, I doubt their fruit is fresh any day of the week, Maur. But the pancakes most certainly are," Jane replied with a smile. She eyed her dress from the night before which still lay draped across the bed, now rumpled along with the sheets. "A walk of shame, and I didn't even do anything to earn it," she said with a sigh, reaching for the garment.

"Oh no you don't," Maura said, snatching it before Jane's fingers could reach it. "You have some slacks that you left about a month ago and one of those dreadful v-necks in the closet. Meanwhile, I'm dropping this off at the dry cleaners for you. This is a Michael Kors," she insisted, holding it up. "This is not something you just throw in the washing machine."

"Is it something I can spray with FeBreeze?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Maura said with a miffed glance as she headed for the door, leaving her friend in a sea of lavender sheets. 

* * *

><p>Jane sat at a table at the cafe, glancing down at her watch and rolling her eyes. How she had managed to go home, walk Jo Friday, and still be at the cafe before Maura, she wasn't sure, but the medical examiner was already ten minutes late. She traced the matching scars on her palms with her thumbs, something she always did to expend nervous energy, and she wondered where this particular burst of adrenaline had come from. With hardly any sleep, she should be walking zombie, but for some reason her heart was racing, and she suspected it had something to do with waking up on the <em>wrong<em> bed rather than the wrong _side_ of it.

As if the mere mental image of Maura could cause her to appear, the doctor finally breezed through the door of the cafe, her hair shining and a restful smile on her face. How did she manage to look to put together on only four hours of sleep? Jane threw up her hands in frustration. "It's about time," she said, pursing her lips at her friend.

"What? I need my time in the morning."

"To do what?"

"Brush my teeth, comb my hair, pesky little things that."

Jane's lip twitched with a comeback, but her words fell flat on her lips as she saw her mother walking towards them, wearing her usual workday apron and carrying a large pot of coffee. "Ma, what are you doing working on a Saturday?" Jane asked, surprised.

"I've taken on a weekend shift once a month to help cover the cost my seaweed wrap."

"Excuse me?" Jane raised an eyebrow, and then regretted that she had even asked for clarification.

"Oh," Maura said, leaning into Angela and placing an agreeing hand on her forearm. "What a wonderful treat for your skin."

Angela nodded, encouraged by the doctor's smile. "Well, I just figure I owe it to myself once in awhile," she said. "This body is still worth taking care of."

"Seaweed is quite versatile. It's a good source of vitamin B12 and iodine, which helps regulate the thyroid. It's properties also help moisten and eliminate dead skin cells, making it apt for most beauty regiments, although this hasn't been confirmed officially in scientific journals. It's also used in toothpaste."

"If that's the case, can't she just spread toothpaste under her eyes and have the weekends off?" Jane asked.

Angela brushed the comment off with a flourish of her hand. "What do you girls want for breakfast?"

"I'll just have some yogurt and granola, Angela, thank you," Maura replied with a polite smile.

"Great, two yogurt and granolas coming up," the older woman said, stabbing her notepad with her pencil and turning towards the kitchen.

Jane lurched towards her, grabbing the back of her sleeve. "Wait, Ma, I don't want that, I want pancakes."

"Janie, yogurt is a natural source of good bacteria for women."

Jane rolled her eyes accusingly towards the medical examiner. "Did Maura tell you that?" she asked.

Angela shook her head. "No. Jamie Lee Curtis. It doesn't matter, it would be better for you than pancakes."

"But it's Saturday," Jane pouted.

Maura laughed as Angela gave the detective a stern shake of her head before walking away, but her enjoyment of the Rizzoli tough love regiment was halted by the glare Jane tossed her way. "What?" she asked innocently.

"This is all your fault, you know."

"How is it my fault?"

"You just had to get her on the yoga/seaweed/coconut water bandwagon, didn't you?"

"You know, maybe I _should_ ask her to join us for yoga one day," Maura said with a mischievous smile..

"Don't you dare," Jane responded, pointing a warning finger as the blonde let out another pleased laugh. The hazel eyes halted on something to the side of their table, and Maura leaned into Jane, as if she was about to share a personal secret.

"Don't look, but I think that cop is giving you the eye."

Jane looked around, puzzled, before catching a lone cop in a corner table, his head perched dreamily on his hand. "Danny? He's half-blind and works the admin desk. And his favorite food is gummy bears."

Maura shook her head, exasperated. "No, the woman, there."

Jane balked and turned fully around, not bothering to mask her curiosity. "What woman?" Her eye caught a tall, thin redhead in full uniform looking her way. Upon catching Jane's eye, she gave her a forward grin and a small wave, which the detective awkwardly returned, a perplexed smile plastered on her face. By the time she turned back around, however, her smile, phony as it was, had completely disappeared.

Maura didn't catch on to her friend's displeasure, and instead met her gaze with bright curiosity. "She's cute," she said. "Is she new?"

Jane shrugged. "How should I know?"

Maura glanced back at the woman before lowering her voice towards Jane. "You could at least be nice," she chastised.

"I'm not interested."

Jane rarely gave in when men were pressed on her, but Maura had thought her friend's reaction would be different when steered towards another gender. "Why not?" she asked curiously.

"Because I'm not gay," Jane replied shortly.

"I'm not asking you to label yourself, Jane, I'm just asking you to enjoy yourself. You've never been with a woman?" She raised her eyebrow. Maura may not have known every aspect of her friend's sexual history, but she had certainly assumed that she had been with at least a few women.

Jane didn't respond, suddenly grateful as her mother returned, setting two bowls on the table and giving the detective at least a moment to flesh out her reply. She had been with several women back when she first went into the academy, but none of her experiences had ever worked out, failures that she simply attributed to personality clashes. The women simply weren't her type, and after one particularly awkward evening, she had decided that men were simply easier, required a lot less maintenance, and elicited a lot less questions from her prying family. She smiled widely at Angela, wanting to prolong her stay at their table, but her sudden cheery demeanor caught her mother off guard, and she looked strangely at her daughter before walking back to her post behind the cafe counter.

"Well?" Maura pressed, still fishing for an answer. Rarely was her friend so evasive.

"I've been with a woman before, yes," Jane responded, somewhat begrudgingly. This wasn't something she felt comfortable discussing with Maura, and that worried her, as she was used to talking about everything with her friend. "Have you?"

"Of course," Maura said, picking up her spoon. "I find that I split the continuum pretty evenly. But for whatever reason, I connect more intimately with women." She paused, scrunching her lip. "And Ian, of course, but he was pretty feminine, I guess."

"Great," Jane replied, burying her head back in her bowl, still wishing the conversation would cease. After the confusion she had been feeling over the past month or so with Maura, it was hitting too close to home. "We've both slept with women. Moving on - "

"Would you do it again?"

Jane looked over at her, irritated. "Maura, why are we talking about this?"

"Because I know for a fact you haven't had sex in over a month, and there's a willing participant that is trying to give you the eye."

Jane glanced back at the woman, giving her another stealthy once over. She was pretty, but plain, and there was no immediate attraction on her part. She imagined the woman's hands certainly wouldn't feel as soft nor as delicate as Maura's fingers did on her shoulder earlier that morning. The memory caused her throat to tighten, and she quickly took a sip of her coffee, cursing its temperature as it burned her tongue.

Maura studied her friend, taking note of the flush in her cheeks, the averted gaze, and she felt a trace of sadness. Looking back at the redhead, who was now moving towards the exit, she recognized a distinct, irrational jealousy on her part: she wanted to have that effect on Jane, the redness, the increased heart rate. As if punishing herself for her own jealousy, she dug the stake in deeper. "Is she making you nervous, Jane?" she asked, forcing her lips upward in a casual smile.

"No, Maura, she's not."

"Why don't you go talk to her?"

"Because I'm talking to you. And I want to eat my yogurt and dirt nuggets in peace."

Rationality all but gone for the moment, Maura pushed further, her aggression masking her own yearning, at least for the moment. "She wants you to eat something too." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she pushed a spoonful of yogurt into it, in hopes of stopping any further humiliation.

Jane dropped her spoon onto the table with a clang. "Jesus, Maura, for once can you get your overly erotic, procreation-obsessed brain to concentrate on anything other than sex?" It was as if her anger at her own internal confusion was flying out towards her friend, and she knew she had overstepped a line, and could tell by Maura's fallen face that her words had cut deeper than she had meant. "Maura," Jane began, but she was already getting to her feet, pulling her purse over her shoulder.

"I'm going to head downstairs," she said tersely, her eyes not making contact with Jane's. "I'm going to start the autopsy, and see if I can get my oversexed mind to focus on my job for awhile."

"Maura, wait," Jane tried grabbing for her friend's arm, but the blonde jerked it quickly away from her, not looking back as she headed for the elevator.

As if able to sense that her daughter didn't feel like being disturbed, Angela walked back over to the table and frowned at Maura's half-eaten breakfast. "Why'd she leave?" she questioned. "I used two percent yogurt and low-fat granola."

"Ma, can you just make me a pancake?" Jane asked, a hand against her temple.

Angela nodded. "Fine." She pinched the underside of Jane's arm. "You need fattening up anyway."

Jane wrenched away. "Ow," she cried. "Just pancakes, please." She shook her head as her mom walked away, and she fumbled her spoon around her yogurt. "This is too healthy to qualify as emotional eating." She put her head in her hand, not bothering to glance up at the young redhead as she passed by the table, her thoughts consumed solely by Maura. 

* * *

><p>Fortunately, being face to face with a dead body was a good way of forgetting one's problems. This, at least, was the way that Maura saw it, and it had proven true over the past few hours, as she lost herself in the process of exploring Charles Landon's body. Granted, she still felt a certain weight in her chest and a tightness in her stomach that she was sure was psychosomatic, brought upon after her disastrous breakfast with Jane. She may have come on too fast and too strong for the brunette's liking, but the ferocity with which she lashed out had been surprising and hurtful. Thank god she had an entire lab at her disposal to distract her.<p>

Maura's forehead was inches away from Landon's torso, safety goggles perched on her nose, as she examined the small, miniscule path that the projectile had left through the course of its lighting fast speed through several layers of smooth and striated muscle. She had examined the liver and kidneys and found no sign of a foreign object, although after examining the condition of the heart, was certain that whatever had penetrated Landon had immediately cut off the blood flow to the organ. She into the open cavity and removed the spleen, noticing a small intrusion on the left side of the organ. With a pair of tweezers, she pulled out a very small, cylindrical object, no more than two inches in length, one end pointedly sharp, the other ballooning outward to a circumference of no more than a centimeter.

She held it up to the florescent light above her head. "Huh," she said simply. 

* * *

><p>Korsak squinted towards the large, pixilated image that loomed over him, unable to make out anything but clumps of blurred figures. "I might as well be looking at a Monet," he said. "I can't make anyone out."<p>

Jane sighed, nodding in agreement. "Points for the Impressionist reference." Looking over at Frost, who sat behind the computer keyboard, she said, "Can you get it any clearer?"

He shook his head in response. "That's as much as I can increase the size," he said, "without us losing complete scope of vision."

Korsak shook his head. "You lost me three frames ago," he said, taking a seat at his desk and returning his attention to the wrapped sandwich that he had been attempting to consume for the past half hour.

Jane moved around behind Frost, hoping to get a better view from his smaller computer screen. "What the hell kind of security cameras are these?" she asked. "They're horrible."

Frost shrugged. "The theatre went through a renovation a couple of years ago, but I guess they didn't see the need to upgrade their security equipment."

"I guarantee their trustees will make sure that they do now," Korsak piped up, his mouth full.

"Well, we can see that for the five minutes before Landon collapsed, his wife and the Mayor were next to him."

Jane nodded, but trailed her finger across the screen. "But, then we've got people passing through left and right, squeezing past, several wearing those ridiculous masks. Even Landon's wife sported one of those masks."

"So we don't have a visual, no one saw anything out of the ordinary, and we don't have a cause of death," Korsak offered, once again his mouth full.

Jane looked back at him. "Thank you, Detective Obvious."

Korsak shrugged, turning his attention back to his computer.

Jane put her thumb to her lip, pacing as she walked. "How are we coming on phone records, email?" she asked.

"Should be here by end of day," Frost replied. "So far, Landon's wife is cooperating."

Jane nodded. "So far, we got nothing to narrow this down, so our scope is still personal, business, and political. We need to know if Landon had any deals gone sour, if he was involving himself in political circles. A man with that much money definitely made some enemies, I'm sure."

"Looks like he may have made one hell of a personal enemy," Korsak said, dropping his sandwich with a plop onto his desk as he squinted towards his computer screen. "Landon only had one son, correct?"

Jane glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah, Todd Landon. He's a litigation lawyer in Boston."  
>Korsak raised his eyebrows. "Well, according to a Boston Society magazine article from 2009, Landon was having some paternity issues."<p>

"What?" Jane walked over to him, hunching over Korsak's shoulder and reading the small snippet from what looked like a page devoted solely to the private affairs of Boston's elite. "A paternity suit," she murmured, scanning the paragraph. "Doesn't give a name." She sighed. "It ain't exactly _The New York Times_ journalism, but it's all we got," she said. "I wonder if Mrs. Landon knew about this."

Korsak looked up at her. "It's worth a try."

Jane felt a buzz at her hip and looked down at her phone, Maura's name plastered across the screen. "We got something," she said. She looked over at Frost, who had his head buried in records. "Frost, let's go," she said, wanting to have a partner when she went down to the lab, especially after her altercation with the medical examiner at breakfast.

Frost looked up at her with questioning eyes. "I think I'll stay and press for those email records," he said, looking pointedly at his computer screen.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Come on Korsak, let's go," she said, motioning for him to get out of his chair.

His sandwich stopped midway to his mouth. "I'm eating lunch," he said. "Why would I want to go down to the body depot?"

She sighed, unable to disagree with him. "Maura eats in there all the time," she tried.

"Do I look like Dr. Isles?" he asked.

Frost shook his head. "Dr. Isles would never pair that coat with that tie," he said with a smirk.

Jane flipped her hands at them. "You guys are lazy," she said. "Fine. I'll go by myself. And afterward, one of you is coming with me to see Mrs. Landon." She turned, storming out of the room and banging her fist into the down button as she waited for the elevator, crossing her arms over her chest.

Korsak shrugged, and tossed a look over at Frost. "Lover's tat," he said, taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Frost nodded, but did a double-take. "You serious?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Rizzoli and Isles?"

Korsak shrugged. "It has a nice enough ring to it, don't you think?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Maura looked up as Jane pushed open the door to the lab, followed quickly by Frankie, who trailed a few steps behind her. She refrained from rolling her eyes, fully aware that Jane had drug her little brother along as a human buffer in order to cover up some emotion that she didn't feel like dealing with at the moment. Instead of calling her friend out, Maura turned her attention back towards the body she had been using as her own buffer for most of the day.

Jane seemed to sense that her true motives had been discovered, and jerked her thumb towards Frankie. "He's going to have to get his morgue legs if he wants to be a detective," she said, somewhat unconvincingly. She tossed her brother a pair of plastic gloves, slipping another pair over her own hands.

Maura managed a smile over at Frankie, who seemed unaware of the real reason he had been brought downstairs, but decided to give Jane the benefit of the doubt, at least for the time being. "I found the projectile," she said.

Jane moved closer to the cadaver, her black boots clicking along the tile floor. "Not a bullet? He wasn't shot?"

"Oh, he was," the medical examiner replied. "With a dart."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "What?" she asked, peering down at the body, as if she would get her answer from it rather than the doctor standing just across from her.

Maura pointed towards Landon's back. "See this pathway through the lattissimus?" she asked, pointing a gloved finger along a thin puncture wound at the skin. "That's the trajectory of the dart, which landed here." She pointed towards a grayish blue blob about the size of a fist, but upon seeing Frankie and Jane's uncomprehending stares, clarified, "The left kidney. That's where this ended up." She held out the small object that she had excavated earlier. "I had the lab run a tox scan on it."

"A poisonous dart?" Jane asked. "That's what killed him?"

"I can't say that for sure until the labs come back, Detective."

Maura's cold tone wasn't lost on her, and Jane replied just as formally. "How long will that take, Dr. Isles?"

The blonde peered over at her, eyes narrowing, as if accepting a challenge. "I should know by the end of the day, Detective."

Jane nodded, straightening her posture, which increased her height, and her ego, by a good inch. "And you will let me know the minute those results come in, Dr. Isles?"

Frankie glanced back and forth at the two women's solemn banter, behavior that he wasn't used to seeing between them, and he spoke up, if only to curtail the awkwardly cordial exchange. "So this came out of a blowgun or something?"

Maura nodded, finally tearing her gaze away from the brown eyes that stared back at her from the other side of the body. "Something that could exact a lot of force. There's a lot of tissue to get through, so whatever it was, it harnessed enough velocity for it to penetrate all the way through to the kidney."

Frankie scratched his head. "There are some pretty small dart guns out there," he said thoughtfully. You can even make a miniature blowgun with a piece of paper and the barrel of a pen." Jane snickered, and Frankie glanced back at her with a mischievous smirk. "Remember how we used to climb up into that tree and blast Arthur Niccoli on the playground?" he asked, chuckling at their shared joke.

"He never did figure out where those acorns were coming from," Jane replied, but her laugh fizzled when she saw Maura turn away from them, returning her attention to severing what seemed to be a large rubber band running across Landon's stomach. Clearly, the doctor wasn't charmed by their innovative childhood sparring methods.

"The angle of the entrance wound suggests someone slightly shorter than Mr. Landon," the medical examiner stated. "It could also suggest that someone held the device low, so as to keep it out of sight."

"Can we figure out where the dart came from?" Frankie asked. "What kind of gun it needs?"

Maura nodded. "My techs are on it. They'll see if they can match it to anything, but it's a long shot, as whatever was used was likely purchased online."

"Aren't there more convenient ways to poison someone?" Jane asked, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Whatever this dart is laced with, chances are it could have just been poured into a drink, which would have been easy enough in such a crowded theatre. Why be so complicated?"

Maura cocked her head. "I think this sort of detective brainstorming is best shared with your partners upstairs, don't you think?" she asked, pulling out the small intestine and dropping it with a plop onto a scale, a gesture that both nauseated and reminded Jane exactly where she stood in her friend's favor. She darted a glance at Frankie and jerked her head towards the door, a tacit signal that their welcome had expired. Judging by the paleness of his skin and his hurried walk towards the door, she guessed he was more than ready for some fresh, undead air. She began to follow him, but the full weight of her guilt settled on her shoulders, and she turned back to the medical examiner.

"Maura," she said tentatively, averting the ropes of tissue that lay in front of her. "Did you eat lunch?"

"No."

"Want me to grab you something?"

"No, thanks."

"Got enough cheese in the dead fridge to last you until dinner time?"

Maura glanced up at her, and couldn't hide the confusion that flickered across her face. She waited expectantly for an apology that didn't come, and shook her head in disappointment as she turned back to her small intestine. Direct apologies weren't Jane's strong suit, and she generally adopted a phased-in approach, easing into them with an offering here, or a kind word there. But Maura wasn't ready to accept anything less than a full-fledged mea culpa. She may have pushed Jane's buttons during breakfast, but her friend's remarks had cut deeply.

Jane reached out a hand to touch Maura's back, a comforting gesture that she had made plenty of times over the course of their friendship, but she let her hand drop against her side, a manifestation of her own confusion. "Maura, I'm sorry," she said, her own words sounding small compared to the hurtful ones she'd said at breakfast. "I blew up this morning for no reason. I - I just don't need you to micromanage my love life, okay?"

"You think I was micromanaging your love life?"

Jane cringed inwardly at the way the words sounded when deflected back at her. "I just mean, I can choose my mating partners on my own. I have my own system of judging worthwhile dates, which doesn't include the measure of pheromones or levels of oxyloveoblah." She let out a small, relieved laugh, hoping that it would penetrate the blonde's defensiveness. "Okay?"

Maura peeled off her rubber gloves, tossing them into the trash can. "Yeah, you've got a really great track record at choosing mates."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Is that sarcasm, Maura Isles? Are you using sarcasm with me?"

"I just don't understand what I said this morning that provoked such a ridiculous, immature response from you. It bothers me." It most certainly did bother her, but that's where her introspection stopped. Maura still wasn't quite sure why it did disturb her so much.

"You're the one who was making ridiculous, immature double entendres over breakfast, if I might remind you. I was just simply trying to enjoy a meal with a friend."

Maura stared at her, wide-eyed. "Is this your idea of an apology?"

"My idea of an apology was to say, 'I'm sorry', which I already did." This conversation was not going as Jane had planned. How could it, if she was still allowing herself to tiptoe around the feelings she had? She swallowed, shaking any thought of confession from her mind, and instead bridled the stubbornness that bubbled up from her gut. "Fine," she said, gesturing towards the intestines. "Enjoy your body parts and communicating with the dead - "

She was cut off the by the sudden whirl of the smaller woman's body, which took a small, determined step towards her, a finger pointing at her chest. "No," Maura said, her jaw clenched and her eyes wide, the green glint in them giving her an air of vulnerability despite her anger. "You don't get to hurt me anymore today, got it?" Her voice cracked slightly, and she jabbed her finger into Jane's chest as if to regain the authority that had been betrayed by her emotion.

Jane's mouth dropped open in surprise, but before she could form a response, Maura had turned quickly towards the deep red sink in the corner, turning the water on full blast. Jane felt a fire of embarrassment flare in her gut, and she followed, but a quick, threatening flick of the water hose gave her pause, and she stopped short.

"Oh come on." Jane put her hands up, exasperated, but not moving any closer to the source of the spray. "Real mature, Maura." She tested the medical examiner with another step forward, but Maura didn't back down, and the nozzle gave one more final warning. "Fine," Jane said, surrendering, more defeated by her own inadequate apology than her friend's defensiveness. "I'm leaving."

She barged out of the lab door, causing a couple of the younger techs to glance questionably at her, but she gave them an unapologetic glance as she headed down the narrow hallway to the elevator, where Frankie stood waiting for her. She stepped up beside him, banging her forefinger into the elevator button and crossing her arms over her chest, but could feel her brother's eyes on her. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said with a smirk, shaking his head and directing his attention back in front of him. "I was just wondering what was going on between you and Maura."

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled. "You really do see me as your little brother who doesn't know anything about girls, don't you?"

Jane stared at him. "You don't know anything about girls," she said.

"I'm beginning to think you don't, either."

She turned fully towards him, giving him her undivided and most intimidating attention. "You want to tell me what you're talking about, Frankie?"

Her little brother shifted somewhat uncomfortably, but didn't back down. "I've just wondered," he began, looking over at her, "if maybe there isn't something more between you two."

Jane felt suddenly exposed, and she tugged on the lapel of her jacket in attempt at gathering her composure. "More like what? We're friends."

Frankie shrugged as the elevator door opened. "Look, I'm not trying to stir up anything here, I'm just giving an opinion. An uninformed opinion. All I know, is that if I had a woman look at me the way Maura looks at you, I would be going after her, without a doubt." He paused. "Especially if she looked that hot."

Without warning, Jane's fist shot out at his arm.

"Ow," he said, clutching his shoulder and quickly correcting himself. "I mean, smart. Especially if she was as smart as Dr. Isles." He sucked his teeth, waiting for the pain to pass, and looked back over at his sister. The elevator doors closed, but neither of them moved to press the button to the third floor. "You know all of us just want you to be happy," he continued. "I know you didn't tell Ma about those women you dated before, but she could have handled it."

"I wouldn't say that I 'dated' those girls," Jane replied.

Frankie put up a hand. "Trust me, I don't need to know what you did with those girls. All I'm saying is, you just need to do what makes you happy. The rest will fall in line. Even Ma."

"Yeah, can't wait to see how Ma's chemistry radar would explode if she widened her scope to a whole other gender." She peered over at him curiously. "And how is your gaydar so fine-tuned that you outed Maura?"

Frankie laughed. "I didn't have to. She told me."

"That she was gay? When?"

He nodded, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet. "I, um, once asked her a question about, um… you know, just something about the female anatomy, just a scientific question, you know, that I thought could help me out – " he cleared his throat – "and um, she gave me a few pointers that she had used in the past."

"And was your face as red then as it is now?"

"Probably."

Jane nodded. "Okay, I think we're done here," she said, finally pressing the button to the third floor and letting the hum of the elevator mask their silence.

"Look, you don't have to open up with me," Frankie said after a moment, his face returning to its normal hue. "But if Maura truly is your friend, then maybe it's time you're honest with her. I've seen the way you look at her. Like no one else is even in the room."

This time Jane felt her cheeks flushing. "I don't know if I can be honest with her," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because that would require me being honest with myself."

The elevator signaled its arrival with a small ding. "I don't think you have the balls to be honest with her," Frankie said with a smile, as the door slid open with a light groan.

Jane scowled over at him, her fist more than ready to punch his opposite shoulder. "You know, women are a little more complicated than you think they are," she said.

He shook his head. "No, you just make things more complicated."

This time, her fist did shoot out towards him, and again he gave a loud, "Ow", before returning the gesture as they stepped out into the bustling hallway, leaving their secrets behind in the now empty elevator.

* * *

><p>Jane ambled behind Frost as the two made their way up a flowered path, the rows of witch hazel and camellias standing at attention despite the cool weather. Frost glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. "You need some time to stop and smell the flowers?" he asked. "What's gotten into you today? You've been spacing on me all afternoon."<p>

"It's nothing," Jane replied. The last thing she needed was another heart to heart. "Did you hear back from the techs at the theatre? They find anything there this morning?"

Frost shook his head. "They certainly didn't find a dart gun."

"And we didn't see anyone on the security tapes that seemed to be fleeing the scene," she said thoughtfully.

Frost nodded, glancing back at her. "I'm beginning to think our killer stayed for the after party."

The two stepped onto the Landon's front stoop and the younger detective reached out to ring the doorbell, its chime echoing from inside the large stone house. Jane glanced up at the structure, which seemed to stretch towards the sky. "How much you think this house is worth?" she asked.

Frost followed her gaze. "Couple of million?"

Jane shook her head. "I am in the wrong line of work."

The door opened and Mrs. Landon gave the two detectives a wan smile as she motioned them inside the large entry foyer. Jane let her eyes glance upwards, the ceiling stretching at least two stories before ending with a glass skylight.

"Mrs. Landon, thank you for taking the time to speak with us," she said.

"Call me Jessica," the woman replied, pushing a strand of straight gray-blonde hair behind her ear. "Did you find something?" she asked, her eyes somewhat hopeful.

Jane didn't answer directly, instead posing her own question. "Jessica, how familiar are you with your husband's legal matters?"

A small glimmer of awareness dawned in Mrs. Landon's blue eyes, which seemed to ice over at the question. "Are you referring to that nutjob Andrew?" she asked.

Jane raised an eyebrow at Frost. "That depends," she began, but the older woman quickly cut her off.

"I'm more than familiar with Andrew Cushing," she said. "And his ridiculous paternity claims against Charles. He drove my husband nearly out of his mind over the past two months with his ridiculous assertion. We almost had to take out a restraining order."

Jane glanced over at Frost with a small smile. "Well, I think we may be getting somewhere."

* * *

><p>Korsak glanced up from his desk as Jane and Frost walked back into the precinct. Pulling his reading glasses from his nose, he smirked up at them. "I found this Andrew Cushing character in the system. Thirty-three years old, works for UPS, carrying a couple of misdemeanors for possession of marijuana. Nothing major, but the kid looks far from stable. I'll pay him a visit tomorrow morning." He picked up a manila file folder. "Doc brought this by," he said, returning his glasses to their low perch on his nose as he scanned the report. "The dart was laced with a compound called antiarin, which is a cardenolide that can cause cardiac arrest." He handed the folder up to Jane. "She used a hell of a lot more words than that, but those are the only ones I can pronounce."<p>

Jane took the file folder he handed her, and perused it absentmindedly as she took a seat at her desk. Maura had probably left her office by now, and was probably at home, where she could complete her paperwork with the comfort of a glass of wine. Jane hadn't expected a goodbye, but it was unlike her friend not to call her directly with lab results. The detective sighed, the element numbers and scientific names a mere blur on the page. She wouldn't fully understand what had killed Landon until she was able to get a layman's summary from Maura.

"Jane?"

Korsak's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked blankly over at him. "Huh?"

"I asked if you wanted to grab a beer with me and Frost down at the Dirty Robber."

Jane narrowed an eye at the folder, and then rose quickly from her seat, snatching it up and yanking her jacket from her chair. She needed to talk with Maura about more than just the lab report, but it wouldn't hurt to have a work-related reason to pay her a visit. "No thanks," she said, heading for the door. "I still have some loose ends to tie up."

Korsak nodded knowingly, watching her go. "Tell Doc I at least got the chemical names right."

Rolling her eyes, Jane gave him a nod. Hopefully, if all went well, she would get her apology right this time, too.

* * *

><p>Jane pressed the doorbell with her elbow, her hands effectively occupied with the bag of takeout she was holding, its bottom seeming as if it would give out at any moment and send her carefully purchased apology pummeling towards Maura's stone walkway.<p>

A moment passed before she saw the medical examiner's head peep through the window, her expression unreadable as she opened the door. Her tone, however, was more than clear: "You should probably call first. After all, you never know when I'll have someone over to engage in wild, procreative sex."

Jane nodded, averting her gaze to the ground. "I deserve that," she said, not bothering to barge automatically inside the door, which was her normal inclination. She figured she needed to wait for an invitation. Instead, she extended the bag. "I brought something from Fresh to Order. I can't promise it's good, but it's definitely… fresh."

Maura studied her before finally moving out of the doorway and gesturing her inside. "I haven't eaten yet," she said, making sure Jane was aware that her invitation was born out of mere gastronomical need than forgiveness.

"Well, I can help with that," the brunette said as she began taking containers out of the bag and setting them on the counter. Maura took the liberty of refilling her wine glass and retrieving a beer from the refrigerator, which she had taken to stocking only because of Jane's love for it, and not her own tastes.

"Thanks," Jane said, taking a longer swig than usual. She set the bottle down and turned toward Maura, who slumped into a seat at the counter. "Look, Maura, I'm sorry about earlier. I was out of line, and I really have no idea why I said what I said. I'm really sorry."

The blonde looked up at her from her perch on her chair. "Jane, did I do something to upset you?" she asked.

She shook her head. "No, I was just stressed out this morning, and I took it out on you." Still, she was being dishonest. When would she stop acting like such a coward? Certainly not while Maura was studying her so hard; she looked as if she knew something was being held back, and it was only a matter of time before her curious mind probed further.

"I didn't mean to make such a faulty conjecture about you," Maura responded. "And I'm sorry that it angered you. But what I really want to know is, why did it upset you so much? I consider our friendship to be partly predicated on a devotion to good-natured ribbing, which is what I thought I was doing. Did I overstep those bounds?"

"No," Jane insisted, reaching out and taking Maura's hand in her own, a gesture that suddenly had new meaning for her. "No," she repeated, pulling her hand away, bewildered by her own indecision. "I – I think I'm a little confused."

Maura watched as Jane reclaimed her hand, her eyes saddening, and her voice suddenly became quietly serious. "About what?"

Jane glanced around the organized kitchen, where everything was in its place, and she wished she could catalog her own cadre of emotions in such a neat manner. She suddenly felt overheated, and took another swig of her beer. "How can I explain this in a way that will actually make sense?" she wondered aloud, wishing she could turn her brain off and instead work from her gut like she normally did.

Maura looked up at her, the hazel eyes no longer curious, but looking as if they were on the verge of confirming a long-held theory. "Science generally relies on experimentation, with analysis and discussion mostly occurring after a hypothesis is tested."

Jane looked over at her, holding the hazel gaze for several moments before her reticence seemed to lift off her chest, finally allowing her to breathe. She stood suddenly, rounding the edge of the bar, her feet moving of their own accord. Staring down at Maura, who looked up at her with curious, hopeful eyes, she said, "I think I'm about to do something that my come off kinda weird."

"Okay," she replied softly, holding Jane's gaze.

"Okay," Jane confirmed, and leaned down, closing the gap between them and capturing Maura's lips with her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Maura didn't immediately pull away, which Jane interpreted as a good sign, not only because she didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but because she was particularly enjoying the suppleness of her lips. Maura's hands rested tentatively at Jane's hips as she angled her head higher, parting her lips in an open invitation for her to slide her tongue inside. Confident that she hadn't just destroyed their friendship, at least not yet, the detective cupped Maura's jaw and deepened the kiss, stepping in closer toward the still seated blonde.

They took their time, tongues whirling against each other, teeth nibbling gently at each other's lower lips, as if letting their mouths introduce themselves. Jane wasn't at all certain what would happen when the time came for them both to part and breathe, but she was able to push the thought easily from her mind as she savored the sweet taste of pomegranate on Maura's tongue. She wished for a brief second that she'd opted for wine instead of beer, but the blonde didn't seem to be complaining. Instead she stood, pushing the bar chair from behind her and sliding her hands up underneath the detective's suit jacket, causing a pleasurable spark to run up Jane's spine.

Maura tugged the brunette's lower lip gently with her teeth before pulling away, face flushed, whether from desire or embarrassment, Jane couldn't quite tell. "Sorry if I was too forward," the taller woman said quickly, taking a reluctant step back.

Maura braced herself against the counter, the pace of her breath quickening. "Forward?" she asked, her eyes searching Jane's. "We should have done this ages ago."

Jane narrowed an eye at the shorter woman, unwilling to take her eyes off of her lips, which were swollen from their kiss. "Then maybe we shouldn't waste any more time," she said slowly, closing the gap between them.

"Wait, wait," Maura said, her hands moving to Jane's chest, confusion rippling her brow. "We're both responding to physiological changes right now. We can't allow that to cloud our judgment."

Jane chuckled, which she quickly surmised wasn't the appropriate response in such a situation, judging by the hurt look that Maura gave her. She reached out and took the blonde's hands in her own, holding them gently. "Maur, this is the best judgment I've shown in awhile. I don't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable, but I am ready to do this."

Maura let her eyes roam over Jane's body, taking inventory of her physical responses: the heavy-lidded eyes, the heaving chest, the stiffening nipples that were visible underneath her t-shirt, and she bit her lip as she thought about the physiological reactions that were occurring between the detective's legs. Just as quickly, she returned her gaze to the brown eyes that peered down at her with a desire so honest that it twisted her stomach into a pleasurable knot while making her feel incredibly safe at the same time. Feeling suddenly exposed, in a way that she rarely felt with a partner, she giggled, feeling her neck flush, and could manage nothing but an enthusiastic nod, her verbal capabilities seeming to fail her at the moment.

If Jane hadn't already been struck breathless by the woman in front of her, she would have let out a sigh of relief, but instead she returned her lips to their rightful place, lifting Maura onto the kitchen counter and letting her hands run across the bunched fabric of her skirt before they met the smooth skin of her thighs.

"Ooo," the doctor cried, jumping slightly. Jane pulled back, but Maura shook her head, wrapping an encouraging hand around the back of Jane's neck. "Counter's cold," she explained, pulling the brunette back towards her.

Jane's hands quickly moved from Maura's thighs, back over her hips and up her torso, tracing her collarbone before delving into the crevice where the buttons of her shirt didn't quite cover the mound of her breasts. She wanted more, and quickly began undoing the first few buttons, her fingers coming in contact with the lacy material of the doctor's bra.

Maura pushed Jane's jacket back off her shoulders, and she quickly shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. The medical examiner's hands were immediately pulling her t-shirt out of her slacks, her fingers skirting over the tanned abs that up until now she had only seen in yoga class or at the gym. Jane let her pull the shirt over her head, glad she had opted for her good bra, but her thoughts were immediately muddled by the feel of Maura's hands cupping her breasts.

Neither of them wasted any time in deftly undoing the clasps of their respected bras, and Jane pulled back a moment to appreciate the perfect, round fullness she held in her hands, letting her thumbs excite the already pert nipples. She moaned as the medical examiner's hands kneaded her own breasts, rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger and pulling her back in for another kiss.

Maura's legs wrapped around Jane's hips, and the detective got the message, lifting her gently from the counter and turning towards the closest available soft cushy thing, which happened to be the couch. Depositing the doctor gently down onto it, Jane lowered her body quickly over Maura's, craving the feel of her skin. Once again, the blonde's hands were fumbling with the detective's clothing, this time scrambling at her belt buckle, and Jane gripped the smaller woman's wrists, lifting one and gently kissing the inside of it. "Are you this bossy with all of your partners?" she asked with a smile, forcing her hands up over her head and pressing a series of kisses across the ample mound of a breast. Preempting Maura's response, she captured a hardened nipple with her teeth, flicking it gently with her tongue as the medical examiner arched into her touch with a heavy moan.

The vocal appreciation continued as the detective turned her attention towards the opposite breast, but it was the feel of Jane's hardened nipples grazing her stomach that caused Maura to push back against the brunette's firm grip. Once again having control over her hands, the doctor let them run over the brunette's strong back before delving back around her hips and cupping Jane's mound through her slacks. Maura smiled as the detective let out a pleasured hiss, and she bit gently at the brunette's ear lobe.

Jane could feel heat radiating from both of their bodies, but Maura's skirt was acting as a barrier to the one place she desperately needed to feel, and she leaned back, straddling the doctor's legs and pulling the garment down her hips, revealing a set of green lace panties. Taking a moment to appreciate the sight below her, she leaned over and placed a kiss at the blonde's hip bone, grazing it slightly with her teeth, the scent of Maura's arousal already tickling her nose. She groaned, unable to keep from delving further, tasting her partner through the already drenched fabric. Leaning back, she stripped the last barrier of material from her partner, tossing it quickly aside and revealing her glistening, and quite appetizing, center.

The look Jane gave her as she stared down at her body wasn't lost on Maura, and she let out a modest smile, but it quickly turned into a slight pout as her hands once again found their way to the detective's trousers, wanting the same reciprocation. "Off," she mumbled, and Jane raised an amused eyebrow as the eloquent doctor's sentences became simple elementary commands.

Jane leaned back against the opposite arm of the couch, Maura following her and helping her slide the black slacks down her toned, tanned legs. They landed somewhere behind the medical examiner's head, toppling something on a nearby table, she didn't seem concerned as she directed a hungered look toward Jane's body, which was clad in a pair of simple black briefs.

"I know, I know," Jane said, feeling suddenly exposed, and relying on the humor that she so often employed when feeling self-conscious. "Off," she continued, mimicking the doctor's earlier command. She raised her hips to pull the panties quickly over her hips, but Maura's hands immediately covered hers, slowing her pace and revealing her wet and swollen center inch by inch. Before Jane knew it, Maura had reversed their positions, pushing Jane back against the arm of the couch. "You're beautiful," the blonde said, leaning over her and letting capable fingers trace the slick folds at her center.

The detective let out a shaky moan at the first contact, feeling Maura smile against the swell of her breast before taking a nipple directly into her mouth, tugging and flicking in quick succession. Jane wrapped a hand in the doctor's hair as she arched into her, feeling her fingers continue trace her own wetness down the insides of her thighs. Maura eventually turned her attention to the opposite nipple, working it into an equally excited and hardened state before allowing her tongue to move quickly over Jane's stomach, tracing the fluttering muscles.

As the medical examiner inched her way lower, Jane glanced down at her, watching as the soft waves of blonde hair fell across her pelvis. Maura met her gaze with a pair of wicked, hazel eyes as her mouth found her goal and Jane couldn't help bucking her hips as her tongue traced deftly across her folds. The blonde nibbled gently at her inner thighs before returning to the detective's core, slipping her tongue just inside and probing slightly, eliciting a breathless groan. Jane felt Maura gently test her swollen clitoris before locking onto it and circling it with her tongue, and she recognized her first coherent thought since she had made her first move at the kitchen counter: Maura Isles was good at this.

She allowed the doctor to work her into as frenzied a state as she could allow, having lost the control that she had tried to maintain, but the minute she felt Maura's own drenched sex brush against her leg, the detective knew she had to be inside her. Immediately. As deftly as if she was flipping a perp, she rolled the blonde underneath her, regaining her initial position of power, pleased at the way Maura's hips writhed against her.

"I'm trying to savor this," Jane whispered, suckling the sensitive flesh at the doctor's neck, feeling her pulse quicken underneath her tongue. "But I'm not very patient," she continued, this time letting her hand cup Maura's sex, which, judging by the moisture that coated her hand, was also not interested in being patient. Jane moved her lips back to reclaim the doctor's mouth. "You have a very talented tongue," she said, tasting herself on Maura's lips.

The medical examiner's eyes met hers. "You think so?" she asked with a grin.

Jane nodded, lowering her mouth to a neglected nipple. "Oh yes," she replied, gripping one of Maura's hands, which was kneading her breast, and moving it down between her own thighs. "But, now I want to feel something else."

Maura's fingers quickly moved of their own accord, no longer needing any direction, and Jane let hers do the same, sliding quickly inside the doctor's warm, tight heat. The blonde's low hiss against her neck let her know that she hit the right spot, and Jane quickly lowered herself with a moan onto the fingers that pushed against her own entrance.

Their bodies slid against one another as they increased the pace of their thrusts, their lips moving greedily over heated skin, the silence in the room punctuated by increasingly breathless moans. Jane felt the smaller woman wrap a leg around her waist, giving her even more reach inside her, and the detective curled her fingers, eliciting a low groan as she touched the especially sensitive spot inside her. The doctor's repeated whisperings of her name let her know she was close, and Jane let her thumb circle over the hardened bundle of nerves her entrance.

Maura let her head fall back against the couch as Jane's frenzied lips once again made contact with her breast, and she pulled the detective closer to her with her fingers, curling them against the front wall of her core and prompting a not too gentle to bite her nipple. Maura wrapped her free hand around Jane's back, allowing her nails to rake against the muscles that rippled beneath the strong shoulders, and lost herself in the power of the woman on top of her.

Jane buried herself between the blonde's heaving breasts, unsure of how much longer she could stall the pleasure that was threatening to explode from between her legs, but she continued her thrusts, listening intently as Maura's cries became increasingly higher pitched.

"Jane, I'm coming," Maura whimpered, and the brunette had to smile at the straightforward communication. She had expected nothing less from the stunning woman beneath her.

"Come for me," she urged, her own hips bucking faster as Maura's fingers finally unraveled her, unleashing an orgasm that shot from her pelvis down to her toes, which curled against the fabric of the couch.

Maura echoed the detective's satisfaction with a strangled cry, her nails digging deeper into the skin of her rippled back, the pain only heightening Jane's own pleasure. She melted into the Maura's body, her orgasm shuddering through her, and she could still feel the quiver of the blonde's thighs underneath her. Jane felt her partner slide out of her, moving her skillful hands to massage the faint red scratches she had left with her nails. Jane let her fingers rest for a moment inside her, and upon finally pulling out, couldn't resist pressing them lightly against the still swollen bud at her entrance, prompting Maura to bite gently at her earlobe.

"I can't believe you wasted such talent on men," the medical examiner murmured.

Jane smiled into the swell of Maura's breasts, the compliment sending a flush into her cheeks that she was happy she could hide from the other woman. "I didn't put this much effort into it," she responded, pressing a kiss against the still warm skin, inhaling the sweet combination of sweat, sex, and lavender that she found intoxicating.

The two lay silently for several moments, voicing their contentment solely with tacit caresses, until Jane could register the cool air on her back, which, coupled with Maura's tender touch, elicited goose bumps across her sensitive skin. The silence seemed to bring them out of their nerve endings and back into their rightful minds, and Jane waited for the overwhelming sense of awkwardness that was bound to descend upon them. After all, she had just shared the most powerful orgasm she'd had in... ever... with her closest friend. The thought didn't unsettle her, though, and she raised her head to glance down at the doctor, who was staring wistfully at the ceiling.

"How you feeling?" she asked, almost afraid of the speed with which Maura's mind was probably dissecting this latest encounter. Maura didn't look at her right away, and Jane felt a sudden drop in her stomach, afraid that she had just stepped off a ledge and left her friend behind to watch her fall.

Her fears were quickly dismantled by a warm, dimpled smile as Maura looked back at her. "Sated. Stimulated. Sensitive."

Janelet out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "I meant that as more of an emotional check-in, rather than a physiological one."

Maura chuckled, pushing against her shoulders and moving them both into a sitting position. Her body was still flushed, her hair mussed, but she was confident in her answer. "I like this," she replied, running a finger along Jane's forearm. "You know goose bumps are a physical response of the arrectorus pilorum to feelings like fear or arousal." Her eyes seemed to follow her touch, which sure enough, left a series of raised flesh across the detective's arm.

Jane swallowed, attributing her response to mostly arousal, but couldn't help but think some small part of her feared the step she and Maura had just taken. As if sensing her anxiety, the medical examiner rested her head on her shoulder. "What do we do now?" she asked.

Jane smiled, shrugging off her nervousness. The two would have to talk, eventually, but that conversation was probably best saved for when they were clothed. "Well, now that we've opened up a whole new door of possibilities, I could think of a few things..."

Maura murmured what sounded like agreement into her shoulder, but kept her head resting in place for a few moments.

Jane looked down at her. "You want to at least eat dinner?" she asked with a chuckle, pointing behind her at the abandoned food containers on the counter. "That stuff was too expensive to go to waste."

Maura glanced up at her with a mischievous eye, moving onto her knees. "Eventually," she replied, straddling Jane's hips and leaning over, seizing her lips once more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Jane leaned back in her chair, watching as Maura, now fully clothed, deposited their dinner dishes into the sink. They had spent another thirty minutes on the couch before scouring the floor for their scattered clothes and finally sitting down to the meal Jane had brought. Any talk of the widening scope of their relationship was curtailed by Charles Landon's toxicology reports, and they ate their roasted carrots, salmon, and beet salad in between the welcome distraction of chemicals, scientific names, and pharmacology.

"So, if this is a plant-based poison, where is it found?" Jane called, grabbing their empty glasses and walking them over to the sink. "Here, let me do this," she said, edging Maura gently aside.

Maura didn't put up a fight, and instead reclaimed her wine glass. "Mostly in Africa, Asia, and Australia. Although the antiarin, which is what causes the heart to digitalize, is stronger in plants found in Southeast Asia."

"And how much of this antiarin did you find in Landon's bloodstream?"

Maura sipped her wine. "Three hundred parts per thousand."

Jane glanced back at her with a blank expression. "So, if I pulled him over, it would be like he was driving while poisoned?"

Maura laughed. "Impressive analogy. But yes, it's like having an antiarian concentration of more than three percent."

"How long does it take to become lethal at that level?"

"Well, it can take anywhere from 10-12 minutes to kill a large mammal."

Jane paused from her task of loading the dishwasher. "Does that mean a man-sized mammal?"

"It's mainly used as a weapon for hunting. I would imagine it would take around fifteen minutes for the poison to kick in, but with the concentration in Landon's bloodstream, I would say it digitalized his heart in less than seven minutes."

Jane returned to the dishes. "Well, that at least lets me know where to start looking on the tapes, but there are a few gaps in camera angles from when he walked from his box down to the lobby during intermission. I'll have to see what I can piece together."

"I'll work on isolating the antiarin," Maura said. "See if I can pinpoint the particular species of tree. It may help in identifying a suspect."

"Speaking of suspects, I'm going to pay a visit to Andrew Cushing tomorrow morning. Talk to him about his paternity suit against Landon. You mind coming along?"

"Why do you want me to come?" Maura asked, perplexed. "Is he deceased?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "No, he's not. But, if he has some poisonous plants lying around, I wouldn't know them. You would."

"You don't know that Andrew Cushing was involved in this at all, Jane. He had an innate desire to know who his parents were, which is understandable. I hate when you make assumptions."

"I don't make assumptions, Maura, I follow leads."

The medical examiner sighed. "Fine. I'll come along for your gumshoe thing."

Jane nodded. "Good." She closed the dishwasher, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. "Dishes are done," she declared.

Maura shook her head. "Not quite. You didn't press the start button."

"Woman, you're killing me," the brunette sighed as she pointedly pressed the button, whirring the machine to a start. She gave an exaggerated swipe of her brow, grinning as she leaned onto the counter and took a sip of Maura's wine. "That's definitely not like a cold, crisp beer," she said, smacking her lips.

"And for that, I'm grateful," Maura replied with a smirk as she slid the glass back to its rightful place in front of her. She glanced delicately over at the detective, who seemed lost in her own thoughts, twirling a strand of her brown hair around her finger. "Do you want to shower?" she offered with a small smile. "And try out my bed, for once, instead of the guest room?"

The question sent a pleasurable burn through Jane's stomach, and she returned the blonde's smile, wanting nothing more than to slide into bed with her. But in the back of her mind she could practically hear Jo Friday whimpering for a walk, and she gave the counter top a resigned tap of her fingers. "As pleased as I am to be elevated out of guest room material," she responded, "I've got a small creature at home that if not taken outside, will destroy my furniture more than she already has."

Maura grinned despite her disappointment. "Tortoises require much less maintenance, you know."

"So do normal pets, like cats."

"Who needs normal?" Maura shrugged, bending her head back towards her wine glass with a bashful smile. Her relationship with her friend had been far from normal over the past twenty-four hours, but she was enjoying their abnormality. As a daily dissector of deceased bodies, however, she wasn't certain she was the best judge of what constituted acceptable deviation from the norm, and the thought caused her brow to crinkle.

"Penny for your more than likely incomprehensible thoughts?" Jane asked, leaning into her.

Maura looked up at her. "No thoughts," she replied quickly, pushing her uncertainty from her mind. "I'll be at my office early tomorrow. Just let me know when you're ready for me to do that official ride-along."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Official ride-along, is it?" she repeated. "You're pretty excited about this, aren't you?"

"Why shouldn't I be? When's the last time I interrogated a living person?"

"Do you interrogate the dead ones?"

"Sometimes. In my head."

Jane's laugh edged into a sigh. She was not looking forward to her lonely drive home. "In the future, I'm bringing Jo Friday with me," she said.

"That's a great idea," Maura replied. "Bass would love a friend."

"Ah, yes," Jane agreed, glancing over at the tortoise, who hadn't moved since they'd sat down to dinner. "He can teach Jo Friday how to meditate, or play chess, or whatever it is that turtles do."

"Tortoises."

"I know," Jane teased, rounding the bar and placing a playful kiss on Maura's shoulder before walking towards the door. The medical examiner reluctantly followed, watching as she grabbed her badge and phone, clipping them back onto her belt.

Jane turned back to Maura as she reached for the door, one hand fidgeting with the scar on her palm. "We are okay with everything that happened... repeatedly... here tonight?" she asked hopefully.

Maura smiled. "We most definitely are. Personally, I'm pleased that we've progressed into a coital relationship."

Jane cringed at the doctor's vocabulary. "Maybe we can use a sexier term?" She exhaled, having no exact suggestions of what the hell they should call whatever it was they were doing. "We're going to take things slow," she continued, thinking aloud.

Maura narrowed an eye. "Judging by the number of years that we have known each other and not slept together, I'm thinking that won't be a problem. We can take it slow."

Jane peeped around the shorter woman at Bass, who was finally slumping down the back hallway towards the lettuce leaves Maura had left out for him. "Like, turtle slow," she confirmed.

Maura cocked her head. "Tortoises," she corrected, "can move up to speeds of one mile an hour. That's about the speed of an average walking human."

"Oh yeah? You determine that while you and Bass were taking long walks on the beach together?"

Maura pursed her lips, but smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "I see getting a lay doesn't make you any less surly."

Jane laughed. "The term is 'getting laid', and that's not what I would call this," she said, taking a step forward and sliding her arms around the medical examiner's waist.

"What do you call it, then?" Maura asked, her voice just above a whisper as her eyes grazed across the detective's appetizing lips.

Jane was unable to refrain from pressing a light kiss against the doctor's mouth, pulling back with a smile. "Well, we're not calling it coitalingus or whatever you suggested." She thought for a moment before her face lit up, her eyes glinting. "LBFF.. W.. E..SB," she said, seemingly pleased with her proposal.

"That's half the alphabet," Maura chuckled. "Whatever that means, it's a horrible acronym, and now I know why you don't work for the federal government."

"Lesbian Best Friends Forever With Emotional and Sexual Benefits," Jane said with a shrug. "What's so complicated about that?"

"I don't like labels," Maura challenged.

"No, you'd rather call everything by its scientific name."

"Binomial nomenclature is more of an accurate descriptor, yes," Maura agreed with a nod.

Jane rolled her eyes, but pressed another quick kiss to the medical examiner's lips. "Good night, Maur," she said with a wave as she stepped onto the stoop. Maura returned the wave before letting her arms fall uselessly to her sides, uttering a sigh that conveyed a swirl of emotions that she had not yet been able to accurately identify. Nevertheless, as she watched Jane climb into her car, she closed her front door with a content smile.

* * *

><p>Detective Frost sat in his car outside of a shoddy clapboard house reading the ingredients of his protein bar, the unfamiliar names not quite meshing with the "natural" label that was plastered across its packaging. He heard the growl of a motor and, looking through his rearview mirror, recognized Jane's forceful driving long before the squad car squealed to a stop behind him. The younger detective wasn't surprised to see Maura climb out of his partner's passenger seat, and gave her a low, appreciative whistle.<p>

"Well done on the dress, Doc," he said. "Looks straight off the runway."

Maura smiled, glancing modestly at the printed dress she wore. "It's Carolina Harrera." She pointed down at one of the delicate green and yellow birds that were printed haphazardly across the entirety of the fabric. "Each season she chooses a print that's featured on all of her pieces. These are sparrows, although their true coloring is something more akin to neutrals and generally not as bright as depicted here."

Frost chuckled. "Science falls in the name of fashion."

Maura smiled, reaching over and giving an approving tug on the lapel of Frost's own suit jacket. "And I see you're partaking in the finer collections of Cavalli these days. His stitching is very well done."

Jane rolled her eyes, rounding the front of the car. "Are we done with the Boston Fashion Week commentary?" she asked. "We've got a potential suspect to interview."

Frost smirked at her, flashing a row of perfect white teeth. "As usual, Rizzoli is in her formal grouch-wear."

Jane performed a sarcastic twirl for her two colleagues before jerking her thumb towards the house. "Let's go," she commanded, her tone quickly returning to its forceful timbre.

The three walked down a small path leading to the front door, which was lined with a series of weepy green plants, their leaves stretching onto the stone walkway. Jane glanced over her shoulder. "See anything poisonous, Maura?" she asked, only half-joking.

"No, but foxtail ferns are certainly an interesting choice for the front walk," she replied, moving carefully along the path, her eyes on the ground.

Frost was first onto the dilapidated stoop, and he gave the door, which was in bad need of a coat of paint, a knock. While they waited, Jane eyed the mailbox, which looked as if it hadn't been emptied in over a month. The mail carrier had taken to stacking letters and magazines on the wooden porch below it. She sifted through a few of the letters with the toe of her boot, but saw mostly junk mail, addressed to a Mrs. Jane Cushing.

The door opened a crack, and a wide brown eye peered out at them. "What do you want?"

"Boston Police, we're looking for Mr. Andrew Cushing," Frost replied, flashing his badge in front of the small crack.

They heard a latch being unhinged and the door opened, revealing a man of medium-height, who, for all intents of purposes, didn't look like a man who would let his home succumb to such a dilapidated state. His hair was short and brown, and his eyes were more than alert. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-down dress shirt, which was more than Jane could say for her usual attire on a Sunday morning. "That's me," he said tersely, his speech clipped.

"Mind if we come in?" she asked. "We won't take much of your time."

He nodded, stepping away from the door and ushering them in. The inside of the house was similar to the outside, with magazines and newspapers strewn about in small piles around a few pieces of old furniture. It seemed to be in a state of organized chaos, and Jane couldn't help but recall a recent episode of 'Hoarders' that her mother had forced her to watch with her.

"I'm guessing you're here about what happened to my father," Cushing said, looking expectantly at her.

Jane shared a quick glance with Frost. "We're here about Charles Landon," she qualified.

A flicker of irritation passed through Cushing's eyes, and Jane surmised that he had probably been met with more doubt than her own about the true nature of his paternity suit against the well-known art mogul. He darted a look between the three of them. "Can I see all of your badges, please?" he asked.

Jane refrained from rolling her eyes, allowing him to regain whatever control he needed in order to feel less threatened. All she needed was a few simple answers. Frost flashed his again, and she did the same, albeit probably too quickly for Cushing's liking. His eyes moved towards Maura.

"I'm not a police officer," she said with a demure wave of her hand.

"Are you a social worker?" Cushing asked with a raised eyebrow.

Maura gave him a confused look. "No, no, I'm not," she replied. "But that's so sweet of you to say." She darted a look over at Jane, who rolled her eyes.

"She's not that nice," the brunette cut in. "Mr. Cushing, meet Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner. She completed the autopsy of Mr. Landon."

Maura reached into her purse. "I have a badge, too," she said, but pursed her lips at Cushing's clear disinterest as he turned away from the three of them, focusing his attention toward a stack of magazines that sat on a coffee table. She shrugged, and turned her attention toward a potted tree that sat near the window closest to her. She reached out a hand, immediately recognizing the familiar leaves and berries of a mulberry.

"The news reports are saying that someone was out to get the Mayor. That my father was just an unlucky bystander." He kept his back to them, his fingers still fiddling with the piles, as if straightening them.

"We haven't given any official statements to the media," Jane responded. "I wouldn't believe everything your read."

"Trust me, I don't." He turned back to them with a slight glint in his eye. "You're here to ask me about my paternity suit?"

"That's a good place to start," Jane responded with a nod. "Want to tell me about your history with the Landons?"

Cushing laughed. "I guess it all started when Charles Landon implanted his sperm into my mother," he said. "But I'll speed the clock up for you, just to save time."

YJane wasn't amused. "I'd appreciate that."

"I found a diary that my mother had written before she died. It was upstairs, here, in the attic. This was her house."

"When did your mother die?" Frost asked.

"A year ago. I only came back to Boston about six months ago to clean out the place." He seemed to notice the detective's apprehensive stares at the mess around them. "I didn't get very far," he confirmed. "I'd always been curious who my real father was. My mother raised me alone, never was married. But it was all there, in the diary."

"And can we take a look at this diary?" Jane asked.

"You can once you contact my lawyer," Cushing replied coldly. "I've learned my lesson. I contacted Landon right away, asked to meet him. He agreed initially, but he backed out. I waited for him once outside of the Boston Opera House one night after a fundraiser. It was the first time we ever spoke in person, but his wife interrupted us. Never did contact me again without cc'ing his lawyer and her." He spat the last few words out bitterly.

"Jessica Landon?" Frost confirmed.

Cushing nodded, his lips curled in a scowl. "She was a cold, raging bitch," he said. "I called repeatedly, she would never let me speak with him. She directed his assistants at work not to put me through. The worst part is, he listened to her. Like a poor, whipped schoolboy, he just followed her directions, no questions asked. He was a coward."

"Andrew, where were you Friday night?" Jane asked, cutting quickly to the chase.

The man's face suddenly paled, and he looked between the three of them, as if confused. "I was here, at home."

"Can anyone verify that?"

He shook his head, his eyes suddenly suspicious and he raised a halting finger. "Wait, you think I had something to do with his death?"

"I didn't say that," Jane replied, countering his raised voice with calmness.

"Why the hell would I want to kill my own father?" he asked, his voice now a couple of decibels louder.

Frost spoke up this time. "No one is saying that, Mr. Cushing."

He paced in front of them. "You're going based on what that meddling wife of his had to say, aren't you? She's told nothing but lies about me from the start of all of this."

"Can anyone verify that you were here at home?" Jane repeated, hoping to curtail the man's spiraling tirade.

He glared at her for a moment, but just as quickly his face morphed into a sardonic grin. "No, not unless you ask my flat-headed agama."

Jane and Frost balked, not comprehending him, but Maura piped up from behind them with a bright smile on her face. "Agame Mwanzae," she said. "A spider lizard."

For a brief second, Andrew's irritation seemed to flitter away, and he looked over at her with a curious glance. "Yeah, that's right. You know the species?"

Maura nodded. "They're the most popular exotic pet in the United States, mostly due to their distinct resemblance to the Marvel comic character Spider Man."

Jane watched as Cushing's guard fell, and his face relaxed for the first time since they'd stepped into his home. She had no idea what Maura was talking about, and judging by her partner's face, neither did he, but she let the two banter for a moment, thankful for the momentary distraction.

"I have an African spurred tortoise," Maura offered with a modest wave of her hand.

Cushing's eyes widened. "How long do those live?" he said.

"The average lifespan is up to 50 years," Maura said. "Which, sadly, is about the same as a human living in Sub-Saharan Africa, which is where these tortoises are often found."

Jane leaned over and whispered to Frost out of the corner of her mouth. "Did we just step into a show on Animal Planet?"

If Maura heard the comment, she pretended not to, and kept her attention on Cushing. "I have heard that agamas need extreme temperatures in order to fully thrive in captivity. Do you let him roam around or move his cage at all throughout the day?"

Cushing nodded. "I do, but I'm also thinking about getting a new heat lamp for him."

"Can I see it?" the medical examiner asked. She glanced back at the two detectives behind her, shrugging off their questioning eyebrows. "Do you mind? I think Andrew could use a break for a couple of minutes, don't you?"

Jane let out a slow nod. "Of course. Who couldn't use a lizard break," she replied with a confused shake of her head as she watched Maura follow Cushing down a back hallway.

Once left alone, Frost turned back to Jane and the two looked at each other for a split second before they were suddenly in motion, quietly moving envelopes, shifting piles around, looking for anything that could give them more insight into the man that lived there. Whatever out Maura had just given them, they planned on using it to their advantage for as long as possible.

"Whoa," Jane said, lifting a large manila file from a desk that sat near the kitchen. "He's got an awfully hefty file on Landon here."

"I would expect that," Frost whispered, turning his attention to a stack of papers on the counter. "Allergy prescription, some credit card bills, nothing suspicious listed," he said. "Otherwise this is more junk mail than I've seen in a long time."

Jane still sifted through the folder she held. "Yeah, but this is certified stalker material," she said. "He's got photos, interviews, newspaper clippings." She held one up. "Look, there's also one about the 'Masked Ball' performance and Landon's backing of it. Cushing knew he would be at the theatre that night."

"Well, he doesn't have an alibi," Frost replied. "You think we can get a warrant to search the rest of this place?"

"We can certainly try," Jane said with a shrug as she turned her attention to a row of plants that sat along the back counter of the kitchen. "For such a shitty housekeeper, he seems to have a green thumb." She heard the click of Maura's heels, and quickly shoved the file back in place, returning quickly to the living room. She shuddered visibly as she caught a glimpse of the large lizard the medical examiner carried on her arm, its blue torso and red head bright against her skin.

"Wow," Frost said, leaning closer to the creature. "It really does look like Spider Man."

Maura nodded, floating her arm closer to Jane. "Want to see?"

The brunette quickly veered out of the way. "I can see fine from here, thanks," she replied, cursing under her breath. Reptiles with tails weren't her thing.

"Oh, he won't hurt you," Maura assured her. "Unless you're an insect." She glanced back at Cushing. "Or do you feed him berries as well?"

"Both," Cushing said, reaching out and taking the lizard from her, allowing it to crawl across his back and settle onto his shoulder, causing a shiver to run up Jane's spine. "Mulberry leaves, berries, alderflies, you name it. I like to have him on a well-balanced diet."

"Sounds like a Whole Foods grocery list," Jane murmured to Frost, who grinned. She caught Maura's eye, jerking her head toward the door, signalling that her show and tell time was now over. The blonde nodded, giving her a subtle wink. "Andrew," the detective continued, taking a step towards him, but halting quickly as the lizard shifted on his shoulder. "Chances are we will be back within the week to ask you some additional questions. We'd appreciate your cooperation." She gave an exaggerated reach as she handed him a business card, taking care not to get any closer to the reptile that sat staring over at her, seemingly unamused.

"I'll answer any and all questions you have in the presence of my lawyer," he replied curtly. "I've learned a lot over the past few months."

Jane gave one last nod before the three of them exited, but she managed to gleam one last glance at Cushing as he closed the door, a relieved look on his face. Once they were back at their respective cars, the brunette shot a look over at Maura. "What the hell was that? All of a sudden you're the Lizard Whisperer?"

Maura looked over at her, perplexed. "Well, I wanted to see the rest of the house, and he clearly wasn't going to let you two look around. Or talk to you, for that matter. I thought that was my one good option. I was playing the good cop." She smiled, clearly pleased with herself.

"More like playing the good veterinarian, but I'll take it," Jane said with a shrug. "Frost, you got time to regroup at the precinct?"

Her partner nodded. "See you there."

Jane opened the passenger door for the medical examiner, almost unwittingly caressing the small of her back, but she pulled her hand back at the last minute, conscious of Frost's gaze. "Come on, Curt Connors, let's go."

Maura looked up at her before climbing into the car, her hazel eyes puzzled. "I don't know him," she said. "Is he a herpetologist?"

"God, that is an unfortunate-sounding profession," Jane replied with a grimace.

Maura clarified. "It's someone who studies reptiles."

"Curt Connors is the Lizard Man from the Spider Man comics," answered Frost. "Good one, Jane." The brunette slapped his hand in a high-five as she walked towards the driver's side, leaving a perplexed Maura to stare at her over the top of the car.

"But was he a herpetologist in the comics?" she pressed.

"Get in the car, Maura."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"Happy Monday, Maura."

The medical examiner glanced up from the report she was pining over and raised an eyebrow at Jane, who sauntered into her office toting two cups of coffee and a small paper bag and wearing an extremely wide smile. "You seem perky," Maura observed with a suspicious furrow of her brow. Rarely did she catch the detective smiling before noon on a Monday. "Do you want something? Whatever it is, I can't be bought with anything less than a profiterole."

The detective cocked her head. "I'm not certain what currency that would come in."

"A profiterole is a French pastry - "

"Made with flour and cream and unicorn dust, yes I know," Jane said with a flourish of her hand. "Don't worry, the cannoli is for me." She extended one of the coffee cups. "But I did get you a latte."

Maura smiled vaguely up at her, but made no move for the beverage.

Jane qualified her gift with a roll of her eyes: "A skim, no fat, no calories, no anything of any kind latte. It might as well be an empty cup."

"Why, that's very thoughtful, Jane," Maura said, rising from her chair and placing a chaste kiss on the brunette's lips. She pulled away with a slight smirk. "That's how the French say good morning."

Jane tossed a conspiratorial glance behind her toward the glass window that opened out into the hallway, her face reddening solely from pleasure. "How do they say thank you?" she asked with a grin, only half kidding.

Maura raised a colluding eyebrow, but her response was cut short by the ring of her phone on her desk. "Hold that thought," she said, picking up the receiver. "Dr. Isles." Her face brightened. "Mitch, thanks for giving me a call back." She pointed a finger at the receiver and gave Jane a thumbs up sign, but, having absolutely no clue what the doctor was trying to communicate to her, the detective merely shrugged and turned her full attention to her cannoli.

Maura gave her a disapproving look as she sat down on the couch and placed her boots comfortably on the coffee table. "I've got an antiarin sample here that I want you to take a look at," she continued. "I'm having trouble isolating it to a specific source, and I figured you were the person to talk to." She covered the mouth of the receiver and tossed a reprimanding whisper over to Jane. "Feet. Off."

Jane put a hand to her ear, pretending not to understand the medical examiner's clear directions. Maura rolled her eyes, but quickly reverted back to her professional tone. "That's wonderful, thank you, Mitch. I'll fax you the report. What's the number?" She arched over her desk and grabbed a pen, bending low enough that Jane was able to see, and fully appreciate, a teasing glimpse of the flesh that she had been thinking about since she'd first tasted it.

She averted her eyes as Maura glanced up at her, but not quickly enough, and the doctor gave her an admonishing look before turning her back. "Perfect. I'll send it over now. I'm on a rather fast timeline. Right. Grace Potter?" She paused before turning back to her desk. "No, I haven't seen her since CosmicCon several years ago."

Jane stifled a laugh. "CosmicCon?" she mouthed, not bothering to mask her amusement.

Maura ignored her, turning her back once again. "Yes, well, thank you, Mitch, I appreciate your help." She gave another nod. "Yes. May the gravitational force be with you too," she said with a tiny pump of her fist. She placed the phone back in its receiver, and busied herself with a stack of reports on her desk. "That was an old friend who now works at the Botanical Institute," she explained. "He's going to see if he can tell me where the antiarin is from."

"An old friend from 'CosmicCon'?" Jane pressed. "You know I'm going to make fun of you for that one, right?"

"Before you do," Maura qualified, "just know that I got to meet Stephen Hawking."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes."

"What did you say to him?"

"I commended him on his theorems surrounding gravitational singularities within general relativity."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can still make fun of you."

Maura frowned at her as she walked over to the couch. "You can make fun of me if you take your feet off the table."

"Truce," Jane said, putting her hands up and keeping her feet in place. "I've been thinking about that lizard."

Maura's eyes brightened. "Are you thinking about getting one?"

"What? Good god, Maura, no." She shuddered. "I've been thinking about where it comes from. Didn't you say Subsaharan Africa? And isn't that one of the places where you said antiarin is found?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that's where this particular substance came from."

"Yes, but would a judge know that? I'm trying to pull cause for a warrant."

Maura sighed. "Depends on the Judge. In my experience, most do not have exponential zoological experience."

"No, those Judges would be reserved for animal court." Jane sighed. "I'll take my chances." She balled her pastry bag up in her hands, and tossed it towards the trash can, pumping her fist as it sailed effortlessly into it. She glanced smugly over at Maura. "And, uh, how do the French say, 'Congratulations, you have perfect form'?"

Maura leaned into her, placing another lingering kiss against her cheek before also using the moment to finally push Jane's feet off the table. The brunette took the cue, and rose from the couch, having neglected her desk for long enough on a Monday morning. She glanced down at Maura, still feeling the imprint of her lips on her cheek, and had a sudden, visceral desire to repeat their experience from two nights ago. "What are you doing tomorrow night?" she asked.

Maura's eyes widened hopefully. "Nothing," she responded brightly.

The desire only mounted inside her. "Great. Let's do something."

Maura smiled easily up at her. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Jane's lips parted dumbly. A 'date' hadn't been the first thought that had come to her mind, which had been more consumed with thoughts of getting Maura into her bed. "Um, yes?" she said uncertainly.

Maura rose from the couch, her brow crinkled. "You weren't asking me out on a date?"

Once again, Jane fumbled for words, and she cupped her chin with her hand as she thought about how best to skirt around the notion that she had merely been looking to hone in on the new found sex part of their relationship. "Well, technically, haven't we been out on plenty of dates?" she asked lightly. "I mean – isn't that kind of all we've done up until now, really?"

Maura looked at her, confused. "What? No, those were friend dates, Jane. They don't count."

"Why don't they count again?"

"Jane." The medical examiner's expression was stern.

"Okay, okay. I was just kidding around," Jane assured her, raising her hands defensively. "Of course it's not the same thing. It's just the same procedure, if you will."

Maura shook her head adamantly. "No, it's not. A date is about wooing and courtship and romanticism."

"Okay, okay," Jane said, trying again. "You know what, you're right. I would love to take you out on a real, non-friend, erotic – "

"Romantic," Maura corrected.

" – romantic date. Make it this Thursday. What do you say?"

Maura smiled brightly at her, and Jane couldn't help but feel a pleasurable pang shoot from her stomach straight below her pelvis. Now that she'd had a taste of Maura, she couldn't stop thinking about her. She loved simply being with her, of course, but the added sex was threatening to unhinge her completely. "Okay, then," she said with an accomplished nod of her head. "I'm going to go upstairs and get some work done."

"I'll call you if I get anything," Maura said, walking back to her desk.

"Right," Jane said, heading towards the door, but turned, unable to resist a last dig at the medical examiner. "And may the gravitational force be with you." She turned, laughing as she heard Maura's voice call after her.

"I thought you called a truce!"

* * *

><p>No more than three hours later, Jane's day, which had started off quite promising, was slowly coming apart at the seams. "What the hell does she mean not enough for a warrant?" she said into the phone. "I thought you said this Judge was the most lenient on searches?" She took an angry bite of her apple, chewing forcefully. "Well next time, don't waste my time, DeMarco," she said angrily, slamming the phone into the receiver.<p>

Frost glanced over at her. "You may not want to alienate the DAs too much. They can occasionally come in handy, you know."

"I'm not alienating, I'm simply explaining," she said, walking over towards Frost's desk and leaning over his shoulder, where the last few frames of a security tape were looping on his computer screen. "So we're missing the minute and a half between the box and the lower mezzanine lobby," she said, taking another chomp of her apple.

He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Do you mind not hovering in my ear while you chew?"

She straightened and looked down at him. "You're in a mood."

He shrugged. "I've been staring at these tapes for hours, interviewing for hours, and I've got nothing. I'm allowed to be in a mood."

She hovered back behind him, and took another chomp of her apple, prompting him to roll his eyes. "And thirty seconds between the mezzanine level and the main lobby," she continued. "According to the timeline Maura put together, he could have been injected anywhere from right before he left the box until he got to the mezzanine landing, which means we won't have a visual of the actual crime. Keep looping through, see if anyone looks like they're in a hurry," she said.

Frost stared blankly at her. "Right, because of the hundreds of people milling around during Intermission, I'm sure none are in a 'hurry' to get to the restroom."

Jane narrowed her eyes at him. It seemed she wasn't the only one whose day was turning sour, but she wasn't in the mood for compassion. She glanced down at the transformer figurine he had standing on his desk, a 'doll' that she had watched him and Frankie drool over one time too many, and flicked it with her finger, sending it toppling. A childish move, but at least it released some of her energy.

"Hey!" he called, quickly setting the figure back in its original posture.

"If you want my evidence, you should work on getting a badge, sucker!" Korsak slammed his phone into his receiver, letting out a flustered sigh as Jane and Frost whirled towards him.. "You won't believe this," he said.

"Try me," Jane said.

"The Landon's have hired a private investigator. They've had him on retainer for the past few months investigating Andrew Cushing, and now he's been directed to look into Landon's murder. He's trying to worm his way into our evidence"

Jane put a hand to her temple. "Can this day get any worse?" she asked.

"Jane, I have great news." Maura's voice breezed through the precinct as she walked towards the three of them, her heels clicking along the tiled floor. "The Boston Opera just sent us two free vouchers for the show of our choice, to make up for Friday's cancellation." She waved the tickets in front of the detective with a practiced flourish, smiling brightly.

"Things can always get worse," Korsak quipped from his desk, sneaking a grin over at Frost.

Maura didn't seem to hear the banter behind her, and peered into the brochure she had brought along. "Ooo, they're doing Lucrezia Borgia," she said. "That's one of Donizetti's most under-performed works, despite the inclusion of one of his greatest arias, 'Com'è bello'. I say we see that one."

Jane reached out and flipped the brochure up, taking a look at its cover. "I'm not sure I want to go back to the opera, Maura, after our last experience ended in a murder."

"Well, now that's a poor excuse," the medical examiner replied, prompting a row of raised eyebrows from Korsak and Frost. "For the average person, yes," she clarified. "But not for a homicide detective."

"Maura, can we talk about this later? I'm a little busy here."

"Oh, that's too bad," Maura replied, suddenly catching Jane's eye and sending her a pointed look. "I came up to see if you wanted to grab lunch."

Jane raised her head, the medical examiner's emphasis on the last word piquing her attention. "Lunch?" she repeated.

"Yes," Maura replied, locking eyes with her and communicating that she had in mind something much more than merely a shared meal. "Lunch."

"What do you feel like?" Jane asked, her voice suddenly a pitch lower.

Maura shrugged, tossing a glance towards Frost and Korsak, who appeared consumed enough in their work. "I was thinking something quick. But satisfying."

Jane was already grabbing her blazer, shrugging it quickly over her shoulders as she tossed a look over at Frost and Korsak. "I'm going to lunch," she said, ushering the doctor towards the door. "Be back in forty-five." She glanced down at the look Maura gave her. "Make that an hour," she corrected.

* * *

><p>No more than a few minutes later, judging by the speed with which the detective had driven, breaking any number of traffic laws, Maura followed Jane into her apartment, shrugging off her coat with a content smile and bending down to give Jo Friday a gracious pat on the head. "It's nice to come home for lunch once in awhile, isn't it?" she asked. "Very relaxing."<p>

Jane smiled over her shoulder as she tossed her keys onto a side table. "Yeah, it is. One of the perks of living so close to work, I guess." She had no idea what she had in her refrigerator that was worthy of lunch, but she sincerely hoped that they would be occupying their time in other ways.

Maura nodded, and the two stood in silence for a moment, neither making a move towards the kitchen. Finally, the medical examiner spoke, her tone authoritative, as if she were officiating a standardized test. "We only have an hour," she said. "We should probably get started."

Jane nodded. "Right."

In a mere second, the two of them were upon each other, Maura circling her arms around Jane's neck and the detective's hands fumbling over the fabric of the doctor's wrap dress. Their kiss was heated and rushed, much like their touches, and their breathing quickly escalated into heavy, needy gasps.

Jane wasted no time in letting her hands roam upwards, cupping Maura's breasts and exciting her nipples underneath the fabric of her dress, prompting the blonde to arch into her. She pressed the smaller body up against the door, writhing against her as the doctor fumbled with her belt, letting out a quick, clipped grumble of frustration. "I hate your belts," Maura said, fully disclosing her discontent with the barrier that was keeping her from her goal.

"I love your dresses," Jane countered, sliding her hand effortlessly underneath the thin fabric and up the blonde's thigh, cupping her wet warmth. Maura's head rested against the door as the detective pressed her hips into her, and she let out a light moan as capable fingers slipped inside her panties, testing her wetness. It was the harsh vibrations from Jane's phone, however, which was pressed against her stomach, that caused the doctor to let out a surprised, high-pitched yelp.

Jane let out a groan, letting her forehead hit the door next to Maura's shoulder. "You've got to be kidding me," she said, unhooking the phone from her belt and glancing down at the screen. Korsak's name flashed across it, and she quickly slid her fingers from between Maura's legs, clearing her throat and attempting to regain some sense of equilibrium. "Korsak, what?" she said gruffly, and heard the medical examiner give an embarrassed groan behind her.

Maura worked on twisting her dress back to its original position, calming her breath in case her own phone rang at any moment. She watched as Jane hung up, turning to look at her with cheeks that were still quite flushed. "There's been a 10-25 at Jessica Landon's home," she said. "Breaking and entering."

"Oh," Maura said, her brow furrowing as she attempted to refocus her mind on work rather than the physiological responses the detective had evoked from her. "Oh no." She smoothed her mussed hair as she processed the information, her brown crinkling in response.

"Come on, I'll take you back to the precinct," Jane offered, tucking her shirt back into her trousers, secretly pleased at the flush that still lined the medical examiner's neck.

"No," Maura insisted, harnessing what little authority she felt she had lost during their brief, interrupted escapade. "I'll come along."

"As far as I know, there's no dead body lying around," Jane replied. "I'll take you back, it's not too far out of the way."

Maura shook her head. "It's fine. Let's just go." She inhaled quickly, her eyes darting around the room as she continued to smooth her dress. "I need the distraction."

Jane caught her eye, and couldn't help but laugh at the poor blonde's startled expression. "I'm sorry our lunch break got cut short."

Maura pursed her lips, attempting to reign in some level of professionalism that she had abdicated the second the she allowed the detective to touch her. She cleared her throat, still feeling the trail of Jane's fingers along her inner thigh. "Lunch breaks are unprofessional," she said with an unconvincing shake of her head. She swallowed. "From now on… we just do happy hours."

Jane shrugged. "I can live with that."

Maura gave a firm nod before grabbing her coat and purse, moving past Jane and towards the door. The detective couldn't resist letting a lingering hand pinch the medical examiner's backside, and Maura quickly swiped her hand away. "Jane," she said, her voice holding enough of a warning to elicit a smirk from the taller brunette.

Jane followed her out the door, glancing down at Jo Friday, who stared up at her, cocking her furry head, befuddled by her owner's brief appearance. "We were never here," she whispered conspiratorially to the dog, chuckling to herself as she locked the door behind her and followed the click of Maura's heels down the stairwell.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the long pause between updates. Hopefully you're still reading :)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Sorry to interrupt your lunch break."

Korsak's voice startled Maura, who jumped slightly as he came to a halt beside her, "Don't mention it," she said with a polite, if embarrassed smile, and refocused her attention back on the pieces of glass that she was carefully avoiding with her scrub-covered heel. "It doesn't look as if the perpetrator was harmed in any way while entering," she said, happy to steer him away from any thoughts of her lunch break. "I don't see any fluids or anything out of the ordinary."

"Other than the busted window, of course."

Maura glanced over her shoulder, connecting the voice to Todd Landon, who breezed towards them with a practiced confidence that hadn't been on display the night of the murder. He acknowledged Korsak with a reserved nod. "According to my mother, there is nothing missing upstairs. It looks like the study is where most of the damage was done."

Maura got to her feet, slipping off her plastic gloves and extending her hand to him. "Mr. Landon, I'm Dr. - "

"Yes, Dr. Isles," he said with a smile as he took her hand. "This seems a bit out of your jurisdiction as medical examiner, no? A simple burglary?"

"Well, with the case under investigation, I thought I would come lend a forensic eye," she said, hoping her explanation sounded official, since she certainly didn't feel as such, and she avoided Korsak's raised eyebrows.

The gray-haired detective squinted out of the broken window, his face morphing in displeasure at the technique on of the crime scene techs was using to trace footprints. "You might as well be looking for prints from a plane," he called, angling his head towards the broken window pane. "How do you expect to see anything without bending over? You got a bad back or something?" He sighed, turning back to Maura and Landon. "If you'll excuse me," he offered, before exiting. It was mere moments before Maura heard him rounding the side of the house, his gruff voice still chastising the poor tech.

"How are you doing, Mr. Landon?" she asked.

Todd clasped his hands in front of him, a picture of composure, but Maura could see the twitch of his Obiculares Oculi as he spoke, the small fluttering of his eyelids belying his anxiety. "Call me Todd, please," he replied. "I'm not quite used to answering to Mr. Landon just yet." His eyes gazed the broken glass before returning to hers. "This is all a little surreal. I'm just worried about my mother."

"It's quite a shock," Maura offered, feeling the futility of her ride-along. Her place was in the lab, not at a crime scene making small talk with a victim. "It won't be easy."

"I'm not certain if things were ever 'easy' with my parents," he said, with a look out the window. He toed a piece of glass with the edge of his shoe, and Maura fought the urge to pull him away, thoughts of evidence contamination running through her mind.

He looked her over, neither nodding nor shaking his head. "What killed him?"

Maura blinked, hard and fast. "Excuse me?"

"My father. What killed him?"

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the glass that he scraped across the floor with his shoe. "Our office is still working to determine the exact cause," she said, offering as much of the truth as she could.

Todd cast his eyes downward, nodding slowly, but when his eyes flashed back at her they held a dull tinge of anger. "If you'll excuse me," he said, asking nothing further as he stepped away from the window. "I'm going to see if the detectives have found anything useful."

"The detectives are doing everything they can to figure out who did this," Maura said, feeling the need to offer him something more helpful.

He looked back at her with a cringing smile. "Ah, detectives. With all due respect, they are nothing more than directors. Working with an incomplete script, and making up an ending that makes the most sense to them." He frowned, turning away from her, and Maura, with nothing more comforting to offer, watched him walk away.

After a few moments, she padded towards the study, a large, dark room just around the corner from the dining room. It was empty, and Maura took a moment to look around, pausing to examine a row framed opera posters that hung along the far wall. She heard a voice behind her. "Those are all of the premieres that Charles and I brought to Boston," Jessica said, coming to stand next to her. She pointed wistfully towards a poster at the far right. "_A Masked Ball_ was Charles' favorite.".

Maura nodded, glancing briefly at the older woman before returning her gaze to the wall. "And what was yours?"

Jessica turned her attention to one on the far right of the row, the last in the series. "Donizetti," she replied. "Lucrezia Borgia. I finally convinced Charles to help me bring it to Boston."

Maura nodded, remembering the brochure that was now nestled in her purse. "Yes, next month. I look forward to seeing it."

Jessica turned a raised eyebrow towards her. "Have you seen it performed before?" she asked.

"No, I've only heard the most famous arias," she said. "But I have heard that it is astounding."

"With the right singer," Jessica replied. "The right soprano can make you feel like you are going absolutely mad, if sung correctly. The soaring A minors, you can just feel Lucrezia's desperation running through you. It sends the mind through a physiological tailspin." She smiled wistfully. "It's quite invigorating."

"Well, that's what opera frees inside of us, isn't it?" Maura asked. "All those messy, desperate emotions that are stifled through the mundane. All the unbridled passion, sorrow, terror, they're all funneled through a beautiful voice." Her eyes flowed along the row of frames, each containing its own maddening, sorrowful story.

Jessica sighed. "It's too bad life isn't like that. All you're left with is just a spiraling blankness. Nothing remotely resembling art."

Jane's voice interrupted them as she walked briskly into the room, followed closely by Frost and Todd, who towered over the shorter detective. "Mrs. Landon - " Jane stopped short at the sight of the two women gazing along the row of framed art, and waited for them to turn and face her. "Mrs. Landon, we'll be assigning a protective detail to your home for the time being. Just as a precaution."

Maura noticed the same obiculares twitch as she had glimsped with Todd a few moments before in the hallway, a slight movement of her eyelids as she blinked. "I don't think that will be necessary," she said, looking quickly at her son.

"Mother, I think it's for the best," Todd urged, placing his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "At least until the detectives figure out who's doing this." He glanced uncertainly at Jane and Frost, but kept his lips in a pursed line as he waited for his mother to agree.

"Fine," she said. "Can they also make sure to keep away the reporters and vultures who show up on my doorstep?"

Frost spoke up. "We can make sure that the media doesn't bother you, Mrs. Landon."

She sighed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. "Fine. Then I expect a detail on Todd's apartment as well."

Her son shook his head, his hair wisping across his forehead. "That won't be necessary," he replied.

"It's not a problem," Jane said, but Todd turned sharply toward her.

"I said that won't be necessary," he said evenly. "I'll be spending my time here, anyway." He clasped his hands, looking between the two detectives. "If there's anything else we can help you with, please let us know."

Jane and Frost shared a glance, seemingly understanding the tacit request that they quickly finish up their investigation. "Frost, you want to round up the techs, see where they stand?" she asked.

Maura felt useless as she watched the scene unfold around her, and when she spoke, it was out of some need to prove her worth as an investigator. "The preliminary autopsy report will be sent to you by Wednesday," she said, feeling her face flush as the three pairs of eyes left in the room turned toward her. "I'll be happy to sit down with both of you and answer any questions you may have."

He nodded, placing a hand on his mother's back. "That sound all right with you, mother?" he asked cordially.

She nodded, but offered no answer, her eyes glazing over. "Fine," she said softly, and turned, walking quickly out of the room.

Todd sighed, pressing a hand against his temple. "Thank you," he said. "We'll be in touch this week." He followed the path of his mother, leaving Jane and Maura to stare after them.

Maura fel the tension leave her shoulders, but it threatened to creep back up her spine as Jane looked over at her. "Since when do you do family consultations?" she asked. "I thought you had someone on staff more... equipped for that."

"I do, but I feel like that's insensitive for this particular case. I've already interacted with the family quite a bit, I owe them that much." She caught the uncertainty that flickered across Jane's face. "What?" she pressed. "You don't think I can do it?"

"Oh, I think you can do it," Jane replied. "I don't think they'll understand a word you say, but you can do it." She sighed at Maura's hurt expression. "All I mean is, it's not easy explaining things, and especially not to a grieving family."

"I know that. I'll just pretend I'm talking to you."

"Right. But with less humor."

Maura cocked her head. "I don't use humor."

Jane laughed, but cut it short at the seriousness etched on Maura's face. "Right. I forgot, you don't have a sense of humor."

"You know, there are scientific studies that show that a sense of humor actually comes from increased uptake of seratonin."

"So, if you took some sort of supplement, you could get a sense of humor?"

"I could try." She smiled.

Jane shrugged. "Nah. I like being the funny one."

"Then which one am I?" Maura asked curiously, but before Jane could answer, Frost popped his head back in.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

Jane nodded. "We need to pay another visit to Andrew Cushing."

Korsak walked into the room, peeling off a pair of gloves. "They don't make techs like they used to," he said with a shake of his head. "Now their equipment is smarter than they are."

Jane clapped Korsak on the shoulder. "Korsak, you and Maura want to head back to the precinct? Frost and I are going to stop by Cushing's place, see if we can get an alibi from him."

The older detective nodded. "Sure. I'm starving," he said, glancing at Maura. "You mind if we stop and grab something quick?"

"And satisfying?" Jane asked, fully aware of Maura's reddening face next to her. The two of them followed Korsak and Frost toward the front door, but not before Maura gave Jane a quick, small-fisted punch on her shoulder, which elicited nothing more than a laugh.

"Ah," Jane said, looking at her with a wide grin. "I'm the funny one. You're the violent one."

* * *

><p>More than a few hours later, the sun already setting over the city, Jane headed down into the bowels of the police precinct, intent on going over any new information with Maura. She cringed as she pushed open the doors to the lab, the sound of an unbelievably high-pitched female voice piercing her ears. "Good grief," she said, putting a finger to her ear as she glanced towards Maura, who was hunched over a microscope. "What are you trying to do, raise your bodies from the dead?"<p>

Maura glanced up at her, one eye still squinted shut. "I thought you enjoyed opera," she said, frowning.

Jane raised her eyebrows. "Of course I do," she said, prolonging her words in an effort to get her brain to catch up with her. "I just prefer to know when I'm going to be... encountering it." She brushed over her near faux-paus and stood next to Maura, leaning a hand on the counter. "Are you looking at something exciting?"

Maura looked at her, surprised, but then smiled. "Actually, yes. Want to take a look? I'm just brushing up on protein biology."

"We all need to brush up on protein biology once in awhile," Jane replied, her sarcasm clearly lost on the shorter blonde. "Why not?" she said, moving closer to the microscope. "I always like to end my day with a few molecules."

"Proteins, specifically," Maura said, but brushed her hand. "Never mind. Take a look."

Jane leaned over, seeing exactly what she expected, which is something that she had no clue to interpret. She did, however, feel Maura leaning close to her, and the blonde's closeness sent a pleasurable tickle through her spine.

She leaned back, and Maura looked appreciatively at her. "You smell good," she said with a smile.

"I'm not sure that's the compliment you think it is, considering the smells wafting through the morgue all day," she replied, but her face reddened nonetheless at the compliment.

"True," Maura agreed, cocking her head, and prompting Jane's smile to fade. "Come on, let me show you something."

Jane followed her out of the lab, leaving the drifting opera behind, and into Maura's office, where her eye immediately caught a large bouquet of red roses that sat along the edge of the medical examiner's desk. "Where'd you get these?" she asked, wearing a smile that did a poor job of covering the jealousy that brewed behind her dark eyes.

"They're from Robert," Maura replied, peering up at her. "He wanted to make up for missing the opera."

Jane couldn't help but purse her lips, a reaction that she had honed over the past couple of weeks watching Robert's courtship, but which had only perfected itself now. "Robert, huh?" she repeated, fiddling with a red petal.

"Mhmm. He wanted to see about getting together again."

"Is that right?" Jane asked, ripping the petal from the rose with unintentional force. She hadn't necessarily talked things out with Maura, and neither of them had mentioned any sort of exclusivity on their part, but that didn't mean she hadn't already broached the subject in her mind. "And what did you tell him?"

Maura cocked her head slightly, weighing her words and studying Jane intently. "That I found another opera partner."

A bouyancy seemed to lift Jane immediately, and she smiled. "Well, good. I don't happen to have any other opera partners lying around, either." She thought for a moment. "Speaking of, what do you think about catching a Red Sox game at some point?"

"That's quite a non-sequitur. What's that got to do with the opera?"

"It's something I can teach you about. Like how you taught me a little about the opera." She glanced back down at the bouquet, shaking her head. "Roses are so cliché. You hate roses."

Maura looked up from her paperwork, surprised. "How do you know that?"

"I pay attention," Jane said demurely. When it was clear that her answer wasn't going to suffice, she shrugged. "My mother told me, okay, after you took her to Home Depot that time. You ended up being snarky with the garden guy."

Maura nodded, the memory dawning in her smile. "Ah yes," she said, pointing a finger in the air. "He really shouldn't have been working that particular section. He didn't know a tuplia humilis from a tulipa heterophylla."

"Heaven forbid," Jane replied, holding back a smile.

Maura shook her head, turning her attention to her desk. "I know. A disgrace." She shifted through a few typed papers on her desk, plucking one from a neat pile. "My contact from the Botanical Society got back to me."

"Wow, that was quick," Jane said as she took the report, grazing over the three and four-syllable chemical names, waiting for Maura to explain. "I guess you're in the CosmicCon express lane, reserved only for fellow CosmicBuddies?" She smirked, but the smile faded when she caught Maura's reddening face. "How cosmic was your relationship?" she asked suspiciously.

Maura fumbled with a manila folder on her desk, and Jane could see the urge to lie losing its battle in the smaller blonde's shoulders. "We had one, hot night in Utah at a Dark-Sky convention. That was years ago."

Jane laughed. "How romantic."

Maura's nose twitched. "He's much better at locating astronomical structures than anatomical ones." She giggled at her own joke.

"All right," Jane said, sighing. "Walk me through this."

Used to her jokes being received as such, Maura shrugged and leaned over, pointing at several of the names with a short, but manicured nail. "This particular form of antiarin is found mainly in Australia," she said. "I've looked around for online vendors, but it seems to be a pretty closed market. It's not easy to get."

Jane nodded. "Mhmm. And where did we say Cushing's lizard was from?"

"Africa. Different continent entirely."

"I know that, Maura," Jane said with an eye roll. "But that doesn't mean he couldn't also get his hands on this stuff."

"Why are you so quick to make assumptions about Andrew Cushing?"

"Why are you so quick to defend him? Because he has a reptile?"

Maura gave her a warning look. "No. But a man of Charles Landon's stature could have a number of enemies."

Jane dropped the report onto the desk. "Maura, no one's out to crucify Cushing. At this point, seeing as how I've got nothing, I've got to keep my options open." She sighed. "We went by his apartment this afternoon to see if we could get an alibi during the break-in, but he wasn't there. Called his phone, no answer. If I can't get him tomorrow, I'm going for a warrant. It's too suspicious for him to disappear."

"He could have plans, Jane. A date? Running errands?"

"He has a lizard that looks like Spider Man, Maura. I doubt he has many dates." She gave the blonde a sideways glance, a smirk curling her lip. "At least not until he gets to CosmicCon."

"How do you know how to trust people, if you have to be suspicious of them all the time?" Maura asked, her hazel eyes looking innocently over at Jane and ignoring the dig. It was that constant earnestness that always kept Jane on her toes.

"I don't know," she replied. "I go with my gut."

"That's not even a real organ," Maura retorted.

"Intuition, then," Jane corrected.

"And has your intution ever steered you wrong?" Maura asked.

"Yes," Jane said with a smile. "Plenty of times. Has your science ever steered you wrong?"

Maura walked closer to her. "Science is always self-correcting itself. We never have the right anwers, we just keep changing our hypotheses."

Jane thought back at the hours of surveillance tape on her desk, which she had already sifted through several times, then directed Frost to do the same. They had gotten nothing. "Sometimes," she said knowingly, "I think it's best to take your mind off things for awhile." She let her eyes run over Maura's figure, taking in the wrap dress that she had so nearly removed only a few hours earlier. "Since our lunch got cut short… do you want to maybe work on happy hour?"

* * *

><p>Jane felt the distinct sense of deja vu, but then chalked it up to the fact that she and Maura had indeed been doing the exact same thing in her apartment only hours before. Her fingers were once again tracing fluttering belt to Maura's wrap dress, when the blonde placed her hands lightly against her shoulders.<p>

"Jane," she whispered, her words punctuated with kisses against the detective's neck. "Do you think we need to slow down?"

The question was enough to give Jane pause, and she leaned back for a moment, one hand pressed against the door near Maura's ear, the other trailing slowly along the doctor's bare arm. Knowing Maura and her inopportune timing, the question was more than likely posed in all seriousness, but she was not in the right frame of mind to address it that way. "Yes," she said, pressing a series of slow, intimate kisses along the shorter woman's collarbone before trailing upwards and suckling the skin just below her ear. "Maybe we should slow down."

Maura shivered at the touch. It hadn't exactly been what she'd meant by slowing down, but the weakness in her knees told her that she shouldn't complain anymore. Instead, she let Jane guide her to the bedroom, where she was pressed gently onto the bed, the comforter soft against her back. Craving contact, she pulled Jane down on top of her, letting her hands run over her shoulders.

The two enjoyed each others lips for a few moments as their tongues vied for dominance. Each time Maura's touch wandered underneath Jane's shirt, her fingers fluttering against newly heated skin, the detective would press her prying hands back against the bed, eventually prompting a small whimper from the frustrated blonde.

"We're taking things slow, remember?" Jane said with a grin as she ground her hips playfully against Maura's, who writhed up to meet her. The doctor had already given her a taste of what she could do with her mouth, and Jane had been thinking about returning the favor ever since their interrupted lunch date. First, though, she wanted to savor every inch of the blonde's skin. She loosened the belt on Maura's dress, which, coupled with a small button at the waist and chest, was the only contraption keeping the garment together, and the sides fluttered towards the bed.

Jane smiled at the simplicity of it, and leaned down to place a series of kisses along the tops of Maura's lace-covered breasts. "Did I tell you how much I like your dress?" she asked, her tongue sliding along the dip at her sternum.

Maura purred appreciatively at her touch. "You seem like a girl that values efficiency in fashion," she murmured, her back arching slightly and affording the brunette more access to her. Once again her hands fumbled at the buttons of Jane's shirt, which was a lot less efficient than she would have liked. Quickly, she found her wrists back against the comforter, the brunette's head shaking above her. "Pleasure increases with skin to skin contact," Maura attempted, her breath uneven.

"Stay," Jane commanded, leaning over and catching the lobe of an ear with her teeth. She leaned back on her knees, undoing the first few buttons of her shirt before slipping it over her head. Maura used the moment to lean forward, deliberately disobeying her instructions, and assist the detective with the zipper to her pants. As the shirt went flying somewhere behind them, Jane pursed her lips as the persistent doctor wrangled her pants over her hips. The determined fingers were just delving beneath the waist of her briefs when Jane quickly grabbed them, pinning both hands back against the bed and leaning over her with an amused smile. "You really don't listen to instructions, do you?"

Maura gave her a pout, biting her lip as she looked up at her. "I get excited," she offered as she let her eyes roam over the brunette's toned stomach.

Jane let go of one of her wrists, sliding her hand between the blonde's legs and tracing the patch of wetness that revealed itself on her lace panties. "I can see that," she said, prompting a low moan from Maura as she pressed the garment into her heat. She pulled them slowly down her legs, baring her completely, and sliding back up the small, compact body, let a knee massage the wetness at her core as she returned her attention to the blonde's breasts.

Letting her hands run up and over the medical examiner's smooth torso, she cupped them through the lace of her bra before tracing the material underneath Maura's back and unclasping it, sliding it loosely down her arms. "Mmm," the detective murmured, tossing it aside and replacing the lace with her hands. "These are my favorite," she murmured, almost half under her breath.

Maura's pleased smile was replaced with an aroused purse of her lips as Jane's mouth descended on her, exciting her nipple with a flick of her tongue. The hardened bud responded immediately, and only after a few moments did Jane turn her attention towards its mate.

The wet heat against her knee was only increasing as she continued to work the blonde's nipples, and she pressed into Maura's center. She slid her mouth down the toned torso, allowing her tongue the pleasure of deviating around every hollow: the dip at her collarbone, curve of her hip.

She knew that Maura wanted her to continue downward, plunging closer towards the wetness that was giving away her desire. Jane was fully enjoying exploring the medical examiner's body, learning which spots caused her breath to hitch, which made her moan, and which tickled just enough for her to heave a breathy laugh. In keeping with their idea of 'slowing down', she had no intention of speeding things up.

Jane decided to work her way from the ankles upward. She moved down the pleased body, hearing Maura give a slight groan as the pressure from Jane's knee was removed. She let her fingers trace her folds, trailing the wetness down her inner thighs.

Maura tilted her head back against the pillows at the teasing touch, sighing as the detective's fingers continued their trail along her thigh, circling at a sensitive spot behind her knee. Jane's tongue was slowly lighting a fuse across her body, to the point where she felt a She decided to give the brunette some encouragement, just in case it allowed her the one touch that she desperately craved.

"Jane, you feel incredible," she panted.

The detective was feeling over confident. "I love that I can do this to you," she said, once again running a finger along the slick wetness an prompting another moan from the woman who was now writhing beneath her. "Make you this wet," she continued, pressing a kiss dangerously close to the excited bundle of nerves. This time she complemented her words with a nibble on Maura's inner thigh, enjoying the quiver she felt. "I've wanted to taste you for a long time."

She was rewarded with another stifled moan as Maura dipped her head to the side. "Then what are you waiting for?" she murmured into the comforter.

"You said we needed to slow things down," Jane replied innocently, fully enjoying the show between Maura's legs. Her own core was throbbing with an unmet need, but she was in no hurry, taking great pleasure in noticing the flush that had crept into Maura's neck, the heave of her chest, the way she bit her lower lip as her hips writhed against the sheets. Jane watched as the medical examiner lowered a hand to her own breast, attempting to give herself some additional pleasure.

"Is that in need of some attention?" she asked with a wicked smile as she lifted her tongue from the blonde's wet folds.

"Stay where you are," Maura moaned, her hips raising in a vain attempt follow the detective's mouth.

"Are you sure?" Jane asked, darting a glance down at the blonde's needy clitoris, which was begging to be touched.

"Jane, please don't be mean," Maura said with a groan.

Jane grinned, and let her fingers slide quickly towards Maura's nipple, rolling it between her forefinger and thumb, while turning her head back to the doctor's glistening folds.

As appetizing as the picture in front of her was, the detective couldn't help but dart a quick glance upwards, meeting Maura's eyes. They were needy, but clear, and didn't move from Jane's own as she uttered a soft, honest plea: "Please."

It was all Jane needed to hear, and she plunged downward, inhaling Maura's scent as she she let her tongue delve inside the tight warmth, circling gently. She wasted no time in turning her attention to the hardened bundle of nerves, which was throbbing for her touch. She flicked it gently with her tongue, stimulating it before wrapping her lips around it and suckling, letting her tongue press against it.

Maura responded by immediately widening her thighs, as if wanting to pull Jane even further inside her. Taking note of the invitation, the brunette slid two fingers into the blonde's core, feeling the muscles tighten around her. She began a slow, steady thrust to complement the increasing pressure of her tongue.

Maura's hands reached above her, searching for something to grip. Uncontent with the pillows and sheets, she slid her hands down to the detective's hair, which was splayed over her thighs. Jane was expertly working her most sensitive spot, and Maura gasped in pleasure as the felt teeth graze against her, and she unwittingly bucked her hips, knowing that if the brunette kept this pace, Maura would be sliding over the edge momentarily.

The increased pace of the medical examiner's moans and the constant twitch of her thighs made Jane curl her fingers, coaxing the blonde further. She locked onto the blonde's clitoris, her own writhing creating most of the friction needed to pull Maura into a vocal, and quivering orgasm.

Jane held on, suckling until the last of the shudders had flittered through Maura's body. She went to pull her fingers out, but the blonde put a hand on hers, shaking her head. With a smile, she pulled Jane back up her body, but the detective managed to let her mouth run over the still quivering muscles of the blonde's stomach before coming to rest on top of her.

Maura captured her lips, greedily, and could feel Jane's own wetness sliding up her thigh. "What if I chose to tease you as long as you teased me?" she asked with a devilish grin.

Jane returned the smile, and circled the fingers that were still buried inside the blonde, prompting a low groan from her. "I think I still have you right where I want you," she said, nipping at the medical examiner's throat. "And I don't think you're that cruel."

"I can be," Maura whispered, but her fingers said something altogether different as they slid easily inside the detective. Testing the wetness she found there, she inserted another finger, fully penetrating the brunette and eliciting a deep, satisfied groan.

"Fuck," Jane whispered, burying her head in Maura's shoulder as the blonde began to thrust, her muscles quickly adjusting to her fingers.

Maura sped up her movements, enjoying the heat of Jane's skin against her own, and the rise and fall of their hips as they rack worked one another with their fingers. Jane was tight, but her muscles pulled hungrily, prompting Maura to go deeper.

Jane seemed to voice her desire by honing in on the sensitive spot below Maura's ear, and the medical examiner knew she would have to employ some cover up the next morning if she didn't want to call attention to the way the detective was marking her territory.

Her thumb found the hard bud at Jane's entrance, and she pressed against it, feeling the detective's hips buck against her, a low moan echoing into her ear. The fingers inside her own core were once again bringing her close, but it was the detective's husky moans in her ear, and the hardened nipples grazing against her own that threatened to completely dismantle her.

Jane didn't have to warn Maura she was close. The mere way her face buried itself into her shoulder, and the way her legs went rigid were the only signs Maura needed. She pressed against Jane's her clit as the brunette came around her fingers, her own orgasm coursing through her simultaneously.

"Oh sweet Jesus," Jane murmured, her tongue now running gently over the marks at Maura's throat, soothing the bruised skin.

The medical examiner smiled as she pulled her fingers out, feeling her partner do the same. "Much better than beer," she said.

Jane raised her head, her own grin of satisfaction curling her lips. "Better than any happy hour I've ever had," she agreed.

She rolled over onto her back, both to give the smaller woman a chance to breathe and to cool both of their heated bodies. Maura turned onto her side, looking curiously over the brunette's body, her own neck still flushed with desire.

"What?" Jane asked her. "Looking for something to diagnose? A protruding intercarpal or an asymmetrical clavicle or something?"

Maura chuckled, but traced an approving finger across Jane's collarbone. "I think you're perfect." Her face reddened, and she quickly pursed her lips, her eyes avoiding Jane's for a quick moment. "Your feet are quite large," she said, by way of distraction.

Jane caught the blonde's nervousness, but decided to air on the side of levity. "I'm tall," she said defensively. "My feet are quite proportionate."

"They're like phoenicopterus feet," Maura replied. "Long, narrow, flared at the toes."

"All right, we're done here," said Jane, raising herself into a sitting position. "We're really going to have to work on your pillow talk."

"It was a compliment," Maura offered.

"Yeah, I'll write down a list of acceptable compliments," Jane said. "You can refer to it." she glanced over at the woman next to her. "For instance: 'Why, Maura, you have such a lovely smile.' See?" she asked, prompting an actual grin from the blonde.

"'Why Maura, when your eyes light up like that, it makes my heart flutter,'" she continued, enjoying her demonstration.

"Or how about this," she said, leaning over the blonde and pressing a series of kisses along her stomach. "I just love being with you." This time it was her turn to redden, and she felt her flush creeping into her cheeks.

Maura's fingers brushed gently through her hair, and the two stayed put, allowing the silence to absorb their feelings. It was only the loud, sharp bark of Jo Friday and the click of her laws across the hardwood floor that finally roused them.

* * *

><p>They hadn't blatantly discussed their sleeping arrangements, but after a simple dinner and the start of a television movie that was quickly abandoned in favor of more orgasmic activities, Maura found herself in a large long-sleeved flannel shirt that she scavenged from one of Jane's drawers.<p>

"That's not a sleeping shirt, you know," the detective said, a toothbrush in her mouth.

Maura glanced down at it, crinkling her brow. "Do you mainly use it for chopping wood?"

"No," came the detective's gargled response, her nightly habit of walking around while brushing her teeth not inhibited by Maura's presence. Normally the twists and turns around a new lover kept her incredibly conscious of her behavior, but despite the fact that Maura dismantled her in every conceivably pleasurable way, she felt entirely comfortable around her.

After finishing her nightly routine, which involved nothing more than brushing, Cetafil and flossing, she glided over to her side of the bed, glancing over at Maura, whose head was buried in a journal that looked so hefty it may as well have been a textbook. "It always surprises me that you don't wear glasses," Jane observed, plugging her phone into the wall. "How did the other nerds at school identify you?"

Maura looked up at her, curiously. "My corneas are in perfect condition. I have twenty-twenty vision."

"I know, you've told me that at least a hundred times over the course of our friend – um, time together. Glasses just go with your whole – " she gestured down the length of Maura's body – "your whole schtick."

"My schtick?" Maura repeated. "I don't have schtick. I've never had a schtick."

Jane placated her with a nod and turned her attention toward the name of the Journal she was reading, which was tucked into a corner. "_Medical Pathology Frontiers_," she said slowly. "So that's how the nerds identified you."

"The pathology field is constantly changing. I like to keep current. Don't you read any criminal justice publications?"

Jane rolled her eyes as the medical examiner directed her attention back to her journal, but slipped her head quickly under the covers, finding the warmth of Maura's thigh and giving it a slight nip with her teeth.

"Jane," the blonde warned with a breathless chuckle as she felt another nibble edge dangerously close to her inner thigh.

The brunette popped her head back above the covers with a gentle smile, knowing that if she kept going the two of them would never sleep. "Good night, Maura," she said, flipping onto her side with a content sigh as the medical examiner let her free hand caress her back.

Maura soon felt the telltale twitching under her touch, which let her know that the detective had finally fallen into slumber. She moved to switch off her light, shifting her partner as little as possible.

* * *

><p><strong>Reviews are so wonderful. Really. They are. <strong>

**Renconteur, thanks for the scientific expertise.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Jane awoke, expecting Jo Friday's furry warmth at her feet, but felt only air as her toes poked from beneath the sheets. A smile lit her face and she turned to her side, remembering the new companion that had slept in her bed the night before, but she was met with an empty pillow. Her mouth curled into a frown and she stumbled out of bed, Maura's voice audible from the kitchen.

"Jo, you're so much more expressive than Bass. You know, prehistorically, if you both were in the wild, you may have actually eaten him. Canis lupis wasn't domesticated as a species until 5800 BC."

Jane rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a tired smile. Jo Friday would owe her one for saving her from Maura's morning science lesson. "You're up early," she observed, stifling a yawn with her fist. "I didn't think you would jump out of bed so quickly."

Maura looked up at her from where she sat at the bar, her spoon hovering over a bowl of cereal, Jo Friday perched patiently at her feet. A pot of coffee was already brewing, giving the apartment a warm, fragrant scent. Maura was back in her dress from the day before, her hair looking as if she'd stepped out of a Pantene commercial, and Jane put a subconscious hand up to her own matted curls.

"I didn't think you were the cuddling type," Maura taunted with a small smile.

"Well, I wasn't exactly implying 'cuddling'," Jane corrected, hoping her implied meaning would pull Maura from her perch on the bar stool and back to the bedroom.

Maura smiled, but bent her head demurely to her bowl. Jane's tacit request wasn't hard to interpret, and she certainly felt the uptake in luteinizing hormone that excited something below her pelvis, but she took a deep breath, hoping to calm both her desire. Lately she had been guided by nothing more than her libido and the physiological excitement that Jane stirred within her, but she did miss their regular, everyday banter, which was indicative of an almost deeper connection."I was going to wake you," she said, recalling the stillness of Jane's sleeping form and the warmth that had wafted through her as she watched her sleep. "But you looked so peaceful. And I could tell by the twitch of your obicularis oculi that you were in stage five sleep. I didn't want to disturb the last of your dreams."

"How considerate of you," Jane replied, reaching for the box of cereal, fully aware that Maura had expertly sidestepped her invitation back to bed "You and Jo Friday enjoying breakfast?"

"Speaking of, it's time you consider purchasing a grown-up cereal," Maura said with a nod towards the Cocoa Puffs that Jane sprinkled into a bowl. She acknowledged her own with a crinkle of her lips. "Anything that colors my milk should not be considered suitable for anyone over age five."

Jane shook her head. "I'm not going to let you ruin my one vice," she said. "Besides, the leftover milk is the best part."

Maura cocked her head and brought her spoon up to her mouth, taking a dainty sip of the brownish liquid left in her bowl and swirling it across her tongue in a move more suited for a wine tasting than post-cereal slurp. "Hmm," she said thoughtfully, lightly smacking her lips. "I'll stick with coffee."

Jane shrugged, abandoning her own newly poured breakfast and plucking Jo Friday's leash from the hook beside the door, causing the dog to abandon her post. "Suit yourself, Dr. Isles," she said with a haughty accent and a flourish of her hand. "We're going for a quick walk."

"Your cereal's going to get soggy," Maura protested.

"Yeah," Jane replied with a knowing nod. "That's the best part."

Maura squinted at her. "There is something scientifically askew with your taste buds."

"Runs in the family." Jane laughed and bent towards Jo Friday, who circled in excited anticipation. Grabbing her phone off the counter, she attached it to her gray pajama pants, but caught Maura glancing at her with a discerning eye. "What?" she asked, peering down at her clothes. "I'm walking the dog, Maura. It's not a runway."

Maura shook her head with a smile, rising from her stool and walking the few steps over to her. "You are a touching picture of domesticity."

"You're just jealous because you can't take your pet for walks."

"Touché. But I think you look sweet." She caught the flush in Jane's cheeks, which she was sure mirrored the color in her own and together they shared a moment of awkward silence as they each tried to figure out exactly how to maneuver their new intimacy once it was outside of the bedroom.

Jane went for the easy option, bending down and placing a kiss on Maura's lips. Dropping Jo Friday's leash, she deepened it, cupping the shorter woman's jaw with both hands. Maura was just as enticing in the morning as she was during lunch or during dinner or before bed, and she quickly steered the shorter woman back down the hallway.

Maura let the kiss continue, enjoying the taste of mint toothpaste on Jane's tongue, but before she was backed all the way to the bedroom she leaned back and placed a slowing hand on her chest. "Whoa," she said, with a small, reserved smile. Sex was something that came easy to her, and with Jane it seemed to happen effortlessly, but she was intent on preserving the emotional intimacy they had with one another; and to do that she needed to take a small step back. "Why don't we just enjoy breakfast together?" she asked lightly. "When's the last time we had a meal without finishing it in the bedroom? Or my couch?"

"I can't help it," Jane replied, hoping to keep the ambivalence out of her voice. "Dessert is always the best part of any meal." A wave of uncertainty passed through her, but she smiled it away, nodding and giving Maura a chaste kiss on the cheek. On some cynical level, she had expected their escapade to sizzle out at some point. The idea that a poised, intelligent, beautiful woman like Maura would want to spend every waking hour with a reckless, uneducated detective was laughable at best. Jane cleared her throat, making her way back to the kitchen, and attempting to clear the thought from her mind. "Sorry for the wait, Jo Friday," she said, bending down and picking up the dog's leash once again. She gave Maura a small, awkward wave as she left, grateful for an excuse to meander through her anxiety alone.

Maura watched Jane's hasty exit with a worried frown, aware that she had misstepped in some important way, but unsure of how to rectify it. She dumped the rest of her brown milk into the sink with a small shudder and turned to her more preferred coffee. Holding a hot mug in two hands, she glanced around Jane's apartment, seeing it with new, more curious eyes. Her detective had never been a closed book, but her humor kept everyone, even Maura, at a small distance. She fingered the glass case of the small African-Spurred tortoise she'd given Jane over a year ago; she hadn't expected her to keep it, but at that time she had gone out on a limb for her somewhat new friendship, unsure of what was appropriate. A square white "HELLO, MY NAME IS" sticker was stuck to the glass, the name left blank.

Turning her eyes to the bookshelf behind the cage, she noticed a small picture, unframed, sticking in the side of a more formal framed photo. It was of the two of them at Angela's, a brunch that Maura remembered as her first introduction to the entire Rizzoli clan. Fingering the edge of it, she smiled. She didn't have family photos around her home, probably because her parents had never been fond of anything less than a framed work of art. Their predilection had clearly carried over to her.

The picture gave her a sense of inclusion, which had never been a priority for her, but she had been surprised at how easily it came with Jane. She sighed, pulling her fingers away from the frame. "Slow down, Maura," she said softly. Just because she and Jane kept falling into bed together didn't mean they would fall into a blissful romantic relationship. She had seen the way Jane bristled when discussing her romantic past with women; and it wasn't as if she made a point of being open about her sexuality. The chemistry may have come easily, but that didn't mean Jane was ready for anything more.

Her phone rang out against the counter, pulling Maura from her thoughts, and she recognized the operations number immediately. "Dr. Isles," she said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Jane popped in a few seconds later, nodding into her own cell phone. "All right, thanks," she said before hanging up, glancing over at Maura. "Shit," she muttered, lowering her phone. "So much for an easy morning." She thought for a moment, repeating the address operations had given her, which sounded vaguely familiar. "Shit, Maura," she murmured, finally recognizing it.

"I know," the blonde replied, throwing her hands in the air as she glanced despondently down at her dress. "As many times as we've done this, I can't believe I'm the one doing the walk of shame."

Jane looked up at her, shaking her head. "No. This is Andrew Cushing's address."

"What?" Maura asked, looking at her own phone screen for confirmation. "Oh no."

Jane's eyes ran over her dress. "You want to change into something of mine before we go?"

"No," Maura said a little too quickly, and Jane raised an eyebrow at her fastidious response. "I mean – thank you. If you're going to do a walk of shame, McQueen is the way to go."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, Maura. It's a bunch of uniforms and homicide detectives. You think they're going to remember what you were wearing yesterday? They barely even remember to change their own underwear." She grabbed Maura's coffee, draining the rest of it on the way to her bedroom, glad for another distraction, however poorly timed. "We got to get going. Things just got a lot more complicated."

Maura stood alone, her eyes drifting briefly back toward the unframed photo. "You have no idea," she said quietly.

* * *

><p>Jane pulled up to the curb outside Cushing's home, her squad car the fourth in a trail of marked and unmarked cars already on the scene. She switched off the ignition, silencing the public radio broadcast that Maura had insisted on listening to, despite having spent most of the ride adding factual context to each story.<p>

"You know studies have actually shown that coral reefs do experience long periods of dormancy," Maura began, but stopped short at the mystified expression Jane gave her from the driver's seat.

"You're like audible footnotes, you realize that?" Jane asked.

"Well, the footnotes are the best part," Maura replied, satisfied with the observation. "What good is knowledge without context?"

"I never read the footnotes," Jane clarified as she climbed out of the car, glancing up at the simple clapboard house that they had already visited once that week. This case was already proving difficult, and another body certainly wasn't helping. Her cut and dry world was quickly becoming more complicated than she liked, on more fronts than she liked to admit. Maura's refusal that morning was still on her mind, her pride more wounded than she thought.

Maura joined her on the small sidewalk, but her gaze was directed disapprovingly at the black boots peaking out from beneath Jane's slacks. "I don't think those give you enough arch support," she surmised, glancing up at her to make her point. "I think that's why you stomp."

"I told you, I do not stomp," Jane countered. "I walk purposefully." She jerked a thumb down at the stilettos Maura wore. "And I think you're the last person who can lecture me about arch support."

"This is different," Maura said defensively. "It's fashion."

Jane rolled her eyes, taking a step toward the house. "Okay, Devil Wears Prada," she said with a shrug. "I get it. You don't like my boots."

"It's not that I don't like them," Maura continued, following her. "I just don't think you're allowing your feet to live up to their full potential."

Jane stopped, turning to her, an unusual defensiveness swelling in her chest, which more than likely had more to do with Maura's response to her in the kitchen that morning than with her unsolicited shoe advice. "Okay, do me a favor and lay off the fashion tips. We're sleeping together, but that doesn't mean you get to rail on my clothes each morning."

Maura seemed bewildered by the sudden irritation. "But I commented on your clothing preferences long before we began sleeping together."

"Yeah, it's just different now."

"How is it different? Your shoes are the same."

Jane rolled her eyes, glancing around them to make sure there were no errant techs milling around close enough to hear their conversation. "I don't need to be told by the person I'm sleeping with how unattractive my clothes are. Just like you don't want me telling you how ridiculous it is that you insist on wearing couture to a crime scene."

Maura's eyes hardened at the shift in tone, as if suddenly their relationship had just tilted on its axis. "You liked my couture last night when you were ripping it off," she replied testily.

Jane snapped her head up as she heard footsteps on the front stoop, where Korsak stood giving them a quick wave and effectively cutting off what was quickly burgeoning into an argument. "Looks cut and dry," he announced as they neared him, jerking his thumb into the entryway behind him. "But I'll let you two take a look." He glanced down at Maura, narrowing a discerning eye at her. "I meant to tell you yesterday how much I liked that dress," he said with a nod. "I've always been partial to green on a woman."

Maura darted a heated look towards Jane, who suppressed a grin. "I'd say it's more emerald than green, wouldn't you, Maura?" she said, bumping her shoulder jovially against her.

Maura frowned at both of them in turn, taking a step toward the open door. "It's persian green," she muttered before disappearing inside. Jane didn't bother hiding her smirk as Korsak peered over at her, his bushy eyebrows raising as he stared at her.

"What?" she asked, automatically on the defensive.

"You always pick up Dr. Isles on your way to an early morning call?"

"You always stick your nose where it doesn't belong?" she retorted.

"Yeah," he shrugged, unbothered by her irritation. "Do it for a living." Rather than pry, however, he simply turned and walked into the house, leaving his observation to linger in the air without pushing her any further. It was one of the reasons Jane had liked him so much as a partner; he knew to quit while he was ahead.

She followed him inside, pushing thoughts of her newly complicated, and possibly unraveling, sex life aside. Cushing's apartment looked how it had when they visited only a couple of days earlier, which meant it would be hard to tell if someone had sifted through any of the normally scattered stacks of newspapers, books, and clippings. They'd certainly never know whether anything was missing. She found Maura hunched over Cushing's body, which sat in a recliner, a book lying open on his lap, looking as if he was merely taking a nap. The only thing missing, of course, was a pulse.

"There's no direct sign of foul play on the body," Maura reported, glancing up at her. "But after Landon's injuries, I'd like to look for needle pricks along his torso before I make a final determination."

Jane glanced down at the open bottles of Xanax and Jack Daniels that sat atop a small table next to the body. "Think that had anything to do with it?" she asked somewhat impatiently, tossing a glance at Korsak. "Looks like suicide."

Maura frowned up at her. "You don't know that for certain. You are conjecturing."

"I'm deducing," Jane countered.

"You're suppositioning."

"I'm hypothesizing."

"A hypothesis is a conjecture."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to play Taboo, Maura," she said. "But look at the evidence. It points right to a suicide."

"It's my job to look at the body," Maura maintained irritably. "It's yours to look at the evidence around it."

"Well, the evidence around it points to a suicide," Jane snipped. "And the rest of the case, and Cushing's paternity questions, allude to the theory that maybe he committed the murder, and then offed himself. He was our top suspect." She glanced at Frost, who walked over with a small nod.

"Not gonna lie, I thought the same thing," he said, tossing a quick glance down at Maura. "Nice dress," he offered quickly, prompting the blonde to give a frustrated crook of her eyebrow as he continued. "There's nothing around any windows or doors to indicate any forced entry or foul play," he continued. "I'll canvas the neighbors, but it's unlikely anyone saw anything."

"He's been dead for about five hours," Maura declared. "That would put time of death at approximately 3:00am."

"It might not matter that no one saw anything because there was nothing to see," Jane said. "Everything happened right here in this chair." She glanced over her shoulder, unsurprised to see Frankie milling around with the rest of the techs. Her little brother had managed to squeeze himself in on more homicide scenes than she ever had, and secretly, she harbored a little pride for him even though she'd never confess as much. "Hey, Frankie" she called over to him. "Check cabinets, files, whatever for prescriptions. Maybe we can track an addiction or a drug problem."

"Why are you turning him into an addict?" Maura asked, getting to her feet and meeting Jane's pointed gaze.

Jane looked at her, both surprised and a little irritated by her insouciance, not that it was behavior she wasn't used to, coming from Maura. Still, for some reason, on this particular morning it was especially irksome. "Do me a favor, Maura, and focus on your part: the body? And I'll focus on my part: putting together a case."

Turning her attention to a pile of papers stacked beside Cushing's television, she felt the hairs on her neck suddenly prickle and she had the distinct sensation that something was behind her, which wasn't a feeling she enjoyed having in a decedent's home. Slowly turning her head, she let out a quick gasp as she was met with the spindly blue and red scales of Cushing's spider lizard. "Holy shit," she said, jerking away from it.

"Oh, look who it is," Maura said, her face brightening as she walked over to the lizard with an outstretched hand. It raised its head at her, but scurried quickly away, scaling down the side of the bar and sliding along the floor toward the back hallway. Korsak shuddered violently as he stumbled out of the reptile's way, prompting a quizzical look from Maura. "I thought you liked animals," she said to him.

Korsak shook his head, scrunching his nose. "I'm afraid my love of animals stops at the cute and furry."

Maura smiled. "That's funny. Mine stops at the scaled and shelled."

Jane looked at both of them with a roll of her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, together you guys make one stellar Dr. Doolittle." She eyed the lizard's path wearily, wishing it was still in sight; at least then she wouldn't be surprised by it. "But right now Spider Man is the least of our worries."

Maura returned her attention to the glass of whiskey, holding it up to the light with a gloved hand. "It does appear that someone drank from the glass."

"Well, who do you think that was, the lizard?" Jane asked.

Maura ignored her, glancing at the dead man's pupils, lifting an eyelid and probing the blob with a gloved finger and making Jane squirm in her blazer. "Something isn't right about his eyes," she observed with a studied frown.

"What, you don't like the color?" This time her ribbing earned her a cool gaze from Maura.

"No, the pupils," she replied, intentionally ignoring the brunette's dig. "They're not constricted, which isn't consistent with either the intake of the Xanax or with alcohol. His pupils are dilated."

"Maybe that's consistent with the dying part, then?" Jane proffered, bending over to peer into his eyes along with her.

"I'm not ruling this as a suicide yet," Maura said, straightening and glancing down at her. "Not until after I do the autopsy."

Jane clenched her teeth slightly. "Maura, I agree with Korsak, it seems pretty cut and dry."

"Things can seem a lot of ways," Maura responded, unperturbed. "I just want to run some toxicology reports and check his blood and fluid levels before I call it. Who knows what was actually in that pill bottle. There's a possibility it's not Xanax."

"You want me to bag these?" Frankie asked, motioning toward the pill bottle and the glass beside Landon's body. He directed the question to Maura, and Jane huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

"Go ahead and bag them, Frankie," she cut in, hoping to redirect his attention to where it belonged. At the end of the day, this case was still her responsibility.

Frankie shrugged at her irritability, more than used to it at a crime scene, and bagged them with a shared glance at Frost. "So, what's the plan? Want me to case the neighbors?" he asked.

Jane shook her head, jumping in again. "Nah, nah, you just stick around here and make sure the techs do their job. And see if you can sort through some of this junk, and maybe find something that ties Cushing to the murder. We didn't have enough for a search before, but now we've got time." She gestured toward her partner. "We'll handle the neighbors."

"Oh, come on, Jane," Frankie insisted. "It's just asking a few old people if they heard anything in the middle of the night. I can handle it."

"Hey, you wanna be a homicide officer, why don't you just stick to what I tell you to do, got it?" She recognized the harshness in her tone, and backed off with an apologetic wave of her hand. "Look, we're all under pressure here, so just follow my orders, all right?" She was aware that this case had been putting her on edge for the past few days, but finally she had a fitting answer in front of her; leave it to Maura to question it.

"I'll get the body to the lab," Maura said, peeling off her gloves. She shook her head as she looked down at it again. "Something about his skin isn't right, either."

"What, was he not using the right moisturizer?" Jane dipped her head back in frustration. "Maura, this guy was a freak hoarder, with a cabinet full of anti-depressants, a comic book lizard, and a paternity suit that was leaving him half-crazy. Suicide doesn't seem far off the mark here."

"Just because he was odd, or a freak, as you so describe it, doesn't mean he was suicidal," Maura said.

"Then what does the fact that he committed suicide mean?" Jane asked.

Maura rolled her eyes, brushing past her, but Jane followed her, reaching out and catching her elbow. "Why are you busting my balls here, Maur?" she asked quietly.

Maura eyed the questioning arm on her hand. "That's a ridiculous expression. And I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary."

"Yes, you are, you're being... more annoying than usual," Jane replied, aware that her lack of verbal acuity wasn't helping her smooth things over. If she kept this track record up, she wouldn't be able to sweet talk Maura into her bedroom for quite awhile.

Maura's eyes narrowed and she reached forward, sliding her hand in the pocket of Jane's black dress pants. The brunette squirmed as the probing hand fished around for a moment before pulling out her car keys with a slight jingle. "Remember that tonight," Maura said cooly. "When you want another happy hour. I'm heading to the lab. You can get a ride with Frost and do your job while I do mine."

Jane watched as the shorter woman stalked out the front door, heading toward the car as briskly and as authoritatively as her stilettos would allow. Whatever had just transpired between them, she was sure it had little to do with Andrew Cushing's death.

* * *

><p>Jane rode quietly alongside Frost as they wove their way around the back roads of Boston, carefully avoiding the traffic that was sure to stall them on the highway. Jane watched as the houses slowly transformed from dilapidated frames to larger, more exquisitely refined structures, each proudly brandishing its own architectural flourishes.<p>

"You think it's worth making a visit if they're not answering the phone?" Frost asked, glancing over at her.

"Of course," Jane answered. "They're probably not answering our calls because they know it's us. Or else that private investigator they heed is telling them not to."

"I can't blame them," Frost sighed, taking a sharp turn. "It's not as if we've given them any closure. No suspects, no leads, no - "

"I'm not in need of a pep talk or anything here, Frost, but this isn't exactly helping," Jane sighed, glancing over at him as she pressed a hand to her temple.

"I'm just saying," he continued, "it's a little emasculating not to come up with anything after all this work. This killer is outsmarting us."

"Emasculating?" she repeated. "Frost, that tie is emasculating. The fact that we haven't been able to track a crazy murderous dart shooter isn't. And after today, we may have our answer anyway."

"You really think it was Andrew Cushing?"

Jane sighed. "I don't know. All I know is that the chief is breathing down Korsak's neck, and even though he isn't coming down on us yet, I know he wants this case easily solved so that he can sweep it under the rug and pretend like the city and its lucrative arts scene isn't just some facade."

"Well, hopefully Dr. Isles can tell us more. Maybe Cushing was hiding the poison in that quagmire of a house."

Jane glanced over at him. "You know you can call her Maura," she said with a teasing smirk. Truth was, she hadn't ever called the blonde anything but Maura. She wasn't one to abide by formalities or titles, which was one of the things she knew had initially irked the new medical examiner. Maura had insisted on calling her "Detective" for at least a month after they began working together.

"I don't know her like that," Frost replied with a grin. "Sometimes she can still scare the shit out of me."

Jane scoffed, but quickly shrugged, changing her mind with a nod. "Yeah, you're right, that brain of hers can be pretty frightening at times, can't it?"

"Well, it doesn't seem to have scared you off," Frost observed, not taking much consideration of his comment until he caught Jane staring at him with a prickly eye.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, leaning slightly forward in her seat.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "It means you're friends with her," he said slowly, as if talking down a perp rather than his partner. "Why, what's it supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jane replied, turning her gaze back out the window and focusing on the passing trees. Either she needed to get a grip on her paranoia or she needed to stop sleeping with Maura Isles, and she was pretty sure the first option was the only choice worth considering. Unless, of course, Maura had already made that choice for her.

"You know, I got a little confession to make about Dr. Isles," Frost said with a conspiratorial grin.

Jane looked over at him. "Oh yeah?" she asked casually enough, but her upper lip twitched with suspicion.

"First, I respect the hell out of her," he qualified. "Brilliant mind, quirky, all that reverential stuff I'm supposed to say."

"Uh huh," Jane prompted.

"But if she were ever into... you know... "

Jane shook her head, either not following his train of thought or intentionally not wanting to follow it. "Men?" she finished for him.

Frost narrowed his eyes at her. "No, if she were into dating black men, I'd totally go for her."

Jane laughed, prompting him to raise an eyebrow at her. "What, you don't think she'd date me?"

"No, I don't."

"Because I'm black?"

"No, because you're Frost," she said. "And you have a power ranger sitting on your desk at work." She continued to laugh, putting her fist against her mouth.

"You know what, this is beside the point," he said, focusing his attention diligently on the road. "Here I am, just trying to share some friendly conversation about a colleague - "

"It's Maura, for crying out loud," Jane said.

"Just because you're a woman, Jane, doesn't mean you can't appreciate beauty when you see it."

"Oh, I appreciate it," she said, her voice trailing to a low mumble. "More than you know."

She peered up at the Landon's house as they neared the driveway, wondering how anyone could manage to call such a structure a home; it resembled a museum. "If you ask me," she said, "Cushing was better off without all this. He would have probably been miserable if Landon had been his father."

"You think so?" Frost asked disbelievingly, glancing out the front window at the house that towered above them. "Are you looking around?"

"I sure am, and all I see is stuffiness and unhappiness."

"More money, more problems, that kind of thing?" he asked.

"You got it. Now how about we go present the Landons with one more problem and see if we can't finally put this case to rest?"

* * *

><p>After her harried drive from the crime scene, during which she was bothered more by her interaction with Jane than with Cushing's body, Maura turned up the speaker on her computer and allowed the cathartic arias of Donizetti to penetrate the air around her. Losing herself in the story a decedent told was easy, and especially welcome as a distraction from her own story, which she was having a hard time interpreting. Tissue, however, didn't tell the whole story; it didn't tell her how many nights Cushing had spent wondering about his biological father, or why he had seen fit to hoard even the most unsubstantial clippings of Charles Landon.<p>

She glanced up from the autopsy table as her assistant walked in through the swinging doors, briefly breaking her concentration. "Hi, Dr. Isles," she said formally, a quality that Maura couldn't help but appreciate. "You're really on an opera kick this week, aren't you?"

Maura nodded. "Do you know this one? Lucrezia Borgia?" Since leaving the Landons home, she hadn't been able to get it out of her head, and had scoured her own collection to find it. As Sue shook her head, Maura laid down her clipboard, eager to capitalize on a teachable moment. "It's based on the life of Lucrezia Borgia, a sixteenth century daughter of a powerful Italian family. Theories have persisted for centuries that she was actually responsible for murdering most of her family's political opponents by poisoning them. But no evidence exists to prove it."

"Well, that's oddly relevant, isn't it?" Sue asked.

Maura looked up at her, remembering the forlorn look in Jessica Landon's eyes as she expressed her love for that particular opera. Quickly, she shrugged the memory away; perhaps her own love of opera was interfering in her ability to separate life from art. She changed the subject, glancing up at her assistant. "Sue, did we ever test the HPLC machine? I want to ensure that it's not malfunctioning."

The younger woman nodded as she took off her glasses and joined her beside the table. "Sure did. I ran them this morning, but didn't know which specimen you needed tested, so I just used a sample of Odwalla juice."

"Oh," Maura said, with a surprised smile. "That's actually quite interesting. I've always wondered the precise level of Vitamin D the Superfood contains."

"You're in luck, because that's the one I tested," Sue replied, turning her spectacled eyes toward Cushing. "Did you see any lesions or fissures on the body?"

Maura shook her head. "No. Everything seems consistent with an overdose, including the rigidity of the liver."

Sue handed her a Manila folder. "Toxicology results indicate the same. He tested positive for Xanax and ethanol, but I couldn't get a great read from the sample."

"That's odd," Maura said, scanning the printout. "With enough to cause cardiac arrest, I would imagine it would be a clean read." Narrowing her eyes, she glanced at the open cavity of Cushing's chest as she continued. "These levels are off," she said thoughtfully.

Sue nodded. "Do you want me to retest?"

"No," Maura replied slowly, fingering the results along the page. "I'm going to compare these to Landon's results first."

Sue didn't question her reasoning, and instead straightened, angling toward the doors. "I'm going to run upstairs and grab some lunch. Want anything?"

Maura smiled, but shook her head. "No thank you. I have some soup in the fridge." She nodded towards the refrigerator behind her, prompting an uncertain nod from the young woman. Not everyone approved of her habit of keeping edible goods in the "dead fridge".

Sue turned, leaving her behind to stare down at the body of Andrew Cushing. "You didn't kill yourself, did you?" she asked softly, uncertain as to why such a nagging doubt plagued her. She rarely had what Jane and the rest of the general public termed a "gut instinct", and instead preferred to rely strictly on scientific deduction. Something about Cushing's death, however, probed at the back of her subconscious.

She heard the doors whoosh open again and recognized the clunk of Jane's boots across the concrete floor. "Hi, Jane," she said without turning around.

"Hey," Jane responded nonchalantly. "You having a heart to heart with Cushing here?" She stopped short, a grimace wrinkling her brow and both hands going abruptly toward her ears. "Whoa, what in the world are you listening to?" she asked. "You trying to wake the dead?"

Maura rolled her eyes before turning around and facing her. "Did you have a heart to heart with the Landons?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Jane replied with a nod. "They were oh-so-formally shocked and disturbed to hear about Cushing's death. I'm telling you Maura, these people are constantly just playing a role. Do rich people even have real feelings?"

"It's not wise to stereotype an entire class of people," Maura chastised.

"I'm not stereotyping, I was just asking a question." Jane walked over to Maura's computer and hit the mute button, silencing the high-pitched voice wafting around them.

Maura irritably scrunched her forehead at her. "This is not your lab. You can't come in here and turn off my ambience."

"Well, these are my ear drums, and they're going to burst if I have to listen to your ambience," Jane replied.

"They would not rupture," Maura corrected. "And if they did, you would experience a painful pressure in your ear and start releasing fluids from the auditory canal."

"Well, let's not get to that point, how about that?" She pointed toward the metal slab that housed Cushing's body. "What did you find?"

"I'm going to run DNA comparison," Maura stated, ignoring the question, seeing as how she hadn't found anything that supported her own theory. Aside from a weak reading, the toxicological results had supported Jane's hypothesis all the way. "I want to know whether Cushing was indeed Landon's son."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest as she studied her. "And why do you need to know that?" she asked. "That doesn't have anything to do with the specifics of this particular murder. Or motive, or intent. No one knew that information but Landon himself."

"You don't know that - "

"Unless, of course, you're still going with this theory that Cushing's death wasn't a suicide. And you think that someone else actually knew the true paternity results and wanted to silence him. I didn't realize you were such a conspiracy theorist, Dr. Isles."

"I didn't say that," Maura countered, shaking her head.

"You didn't have to," Jane said. "I can read you like a long, methodical, multi-chapter textbook."

Maura slipped off her gloves, tossing them in the trash can and heading for the small doorway to her office. "Like I said before, Detective, this is my lab and I'll play the music that I want to play and run the tests that I want to run."

"What is this, some misplaced affection for Cushing because he's an orphan?" Jane asked as she followed her into her office. She had known Maura to take a stance on a case once in awhile, but it was usually solved by a couple of lab tests. This seemed to come from someplace deeper than science.

Maura blanched, and for a second Jane regretted her words. "No," she replied with a shake of her head. "But Charles Landon was a powerful man, which means he has powerful enemies. I think it shows a lack of foresight to assume that this wasn't promulgated by someone who stood to lose something if Andrew Cushing actually got his hands on paternity results. I just want to run some additional analysis."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest. "Maur, I appreciate that for once you're thinking like a cop, but with all due respect I've got a chief breathing down my neck who would like to see this case closed, and two family members who would like some closure. And I've got a perfectly good answer lying right in front of us. I don't have time for you to play around with your science. I just need the tox results."

Maura's mouth dropped open, hurt. "I do not play around with science," she said.

"Excuse me, Dr. Isles?" Sue interrupted, popping her head in the doorway. "I'm on my way upstairs, but here are the results from the Odwalla juice."

"Just give us a second, Sue?" Maura asked with a clipped smile, not happy with her tech's timing. She reached over and grabbed the results quickly, shutting the door behind the young woman as she left. Avoiding what was sure to be a flippant look from Jane, she shoved the results in a desk drawer.

Jane pursed her lips, nodding sarcastically. "By all means, don't let me interfere with your hard, important science. Boston is waiting on the results of its Superfood juice! Yuppies everywhere are on pins and needles!"

"It's high performance liquid chromatography and it's just a sample test!" Maura exclaimed. "Why are you being such a bully? I've never met someone who was this irritated while having plentiful sex. I think something is wrong with your oxytocin levels."

Jane pointed an accusing finger at her. "No bringing up sex during the work day. Isn't that your rule?"

"I don't have any rules," Maura retorted.

"Of course you don't," Jane said, throwing up her hands. "I forgot who I'm talking to: Ms. Free-Love-Patchouli over here."

"Well, at least I'm comfortable with my own sexuality," Maura snapped, biting her lower lip as the the words slipped suddenly from her lips. They had been on her mind all morning, feeding an intense unnamed anxiety, but it hadn't been her intention to actually share them, especially not in the middle of an argument.

Jane stiffened, as if a rod had been placed in her back. "What did you say?" she asked quietly, dread settling in her stomach. "You think I'm not comfortable with what we're doing?"

Maura shook her head, pacing behind her desk and darting a glance at the door before she began to finally speak, hoping to alleviate the hurtfulness of her words. "You've never told me about women you've dated or have been attracted to before, and it's not like you're making it a point to be out - "

"Neither are you," Jane rebutted. "What, I don't walk around in heels and skirts all day long, so I'm supposed to slap a label on my forehead? No thanks." She paced once, starting to sit in the red chair beside Maura's couch, but thought better of it and returned to her wide stride back and forth in front of the desk. Maura had always managed to uncover her most well-hidden insecurities, and this was merely another layer she had wedged her way under. "I'm the one that asked you out on a date."

Maura shook her head in confusion. "I _asked_ you to _ask_me out on a date."

"Well, I made the _first_ move in the _first_place," Jane reiterated. She had, of course. She had gone on pure instinct and unbridled need, but it was much more than just a physical connection she was after, although at this point, that was the last thing she would share with Maura. She had no idea where they stood, other than the fact that they were now both angry at each other for no apparent reason. Jane tossed her head back in defeat. It was one thing to argue the finer points of a case, and another to let whatever it was brewing between the two of them fester into absurdity. "What are we even doing here?"

"We're arguing," Maura said simply.

"Yes, but we usually argue about a case. This isn't about the case anymore." She took a step back, slumping onto the couch, her breath exiting her body in a slow exhale. "Are you pulling a 'Kissing Jessica Stein' on me?" she asked finally.

Maura narrowed a confused eye. "I don't think so," she replied uncertainly, the reference not computing in her brain.

"The movie, 'Kissing Jessica Stein'," Jane explained, waving her hand impatiently. "You just want to go back to being friends, is that it?"

Maura shook her head, the ramifications of her words suddenly clear. "No, no. That's not what I'm saying at all." As if to emphasize her point, she sat down next to Jane and placed an assuring hand on her knee. "Look, we're sleeping together and attempting to navigate a pseudo-professional relationship while at the same time hiding it from everyone we know." She paused, her head tilting. "It's bound to become a bit challenging."

"Okay, sure," Jane placated. "But what in the world makes you think I'm not comfortable with who I am?"

"You never talked about it with me," Maura replied quietly, still hurt by the fact that Jane had never shared something so personal with her. She wasn't exactly certain of the mechanics of friendship, but she was under the general impression that such secrets were shared between friends. Or lovers. Or whatever they were calling themselves at the moment. "You never told me you liked women."

Jane sighed, Maura's sudden reticence moving her to a more empathetic place. "I never talked about it with you because I couldn't," she confessed, pausing a moment before continuing. "It's hard to talk about other women when the only woman you want to be with is sitting right next to you."

Maura met her gaze, feeling suddenly foolish, but her anxiety pushed her toward one more question. "So this isn't some Kinsey experiment for you?"

"What?" Jane asked, the blonde's logic suddenly making sense. "No. For crying out loud, I did that during the Academy. I love women, but god knows they're complicated." She pointed between the two of them. "I rest my case."

Maura took a deep breath, her eyes falling to the floor. If Jane had taught her anything over the course of their friendship, it was to seize the moment. Jane had done as much by leaning in for that first kiss, and Maura now realized that she would be the one to take the next step. "You are my best friend, you know," she began softly, her gaze returning to the brown eyes that turned towards her. "I never had one, so I'm not sure as to the parameters one should have about sleeping with them." She swallowed before taking her final leap. "Or falling in love with them."

Jane leaned forward, cupping her ear, only slightly afraid that her heart would leap out of her throat. "What was that?"

"I said that I'm not certain as to the parameters of falling in love with your best friend."

"This best friend?" Jane asked, pointing a thumb inward. She had expected Maura to be on board with their new physical benefits, but she had not gotten her hopes up for anything more. To actually hear such a confession seemed to slow down her brain, and she was having trouble keeping up over the pounding of her pulse.

"You're the only best friend I'm sleeping with at the moment, yes."

Jane smiled, exhaling as her eyes fell to the small hand that still covered her knee. She lifted it, placing a light kiss on the back of Maura's knuckles. "I'm your only best friend," she observed.

Maura nodded. "Which is why I don't want to lose you," she said. "If this isn't going to work, then tell me, because I don't want to do anything to destroy what we already have. If you're not ready for this, it's okay."

Jane ran a hand through her hair, shifting nervously on the couch, which had suddenly become uncomfortable underneath her. "Maura, I'm perfectly at ease with who I am."

Maura watched her squirm, narrowing an eye at her. "I can see that. Especially from the way your occipital nerve is twitching."

Jane rolled her eyes. Clearly, Maura wasn't the only one not allowed to lie; the woman's physiological acuity ensured that no one around her could get away with a little falsehood, either. "No, I _am_ comfortable with it. I just haven't given anyone else the chance to be comfortable with it, that's all. Do you have any idea how those guys upstairs would ride me if they found out I was gay?" She cringed, displeased with her choice of words.

Maura patronly patted her knee, giving her an empathetic smile. Jane was at times able to discern from one look at a perpetrator whether they were guilty or not, but the poor detective had no clue as to the image she projected of herself. Maura found it more than endearing. "Jane, everyone at work knows you're gay," she revealed with a polite smile.

"What?" Jane's lips curled immediately into a frown.

Maura looked at her, nonplussed. "Everyone assumes that you're gay," she repeated.

"No they don't," Jane refuted, scoffing, but she did a double-take. "Do they?"

"Of course."

"How?"

Maura pointed down at Jane's boots, the same ones she had railed on that morning. "I think it's because of your shoes," she said, unable to keep a smile from twitching her lips.

Jane leaned over, swatting her with a pillow, but her expression morphed into one more thoughtful as she gazed at Maura, wondering where their newfound connection would lead them. Her earlier doubt still nagged at the edge of her thoughts, fraying her confidence that she normally wielded so well. "Why would a girl like you date a girl who wears shoes like these?" she asked, only half-joking.

"Lesbian shoes?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Maura. You're a complete catch. You're beautiful, you're smart, you can actually pronounce the cheeses you eat. I honestly don't know what you're getting out of the deal here." She kept her eyes low, almost afraid to meet Maura's gaze.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Maura asked, peering over at her.

"No," Jane insisted, leaning back against the couch, ticking off the list she'd come up with since her first night with Maura. "I mean, I get that I'm funny, I keep you on your toes, I change your lightbulbs - "

"Just the high ones," Maura pointed out.

"Right," she confirmed, but her smile faded into a doubtful frown. "This morning I just got a little insecure, I guess. You're more than just my LBFF... W.. ESB or whatever. You're... Maura. You're just... my favorite. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to keep you with just... me."

Maura's eyes softened, and she reached across Jane's lap for her other hand, taking them both in her own and giving them a quick squeeze. "Do you know how fortunate I am to have you in my life?" she asked. "You've given me a confidence that I never thought I'd have, a family I never dreamed of, and a constant increase in serotonin uptake."

"I'm like a hallucinatory drug, is that what you're saying?"

Maura laughed, but playfully hit her thigh. "I'm serious. I love being with you. Which means sometimes I just want to simply _be_with you."

"Right," Jane nodded. "Like cuddling."

"Or talking."

"Or sleeping."

Or eating."

Jane smiled, her anxieties from that morning slipping slowly away. "Speaking of, would you rather Italian or French tomorrow night? For our little lady date?"

"We're still on for tomorrow?" she confirmed, her eyes brightening.

"Of course," Jane replied. "Unless, of course, you want to ask me to ask you to cancel."

"No," Maura said quickly, shaking her head. She let her finger trail suggestively up Jane's thigh, complementing her touch with a soft smile. "I love Italian."

Jane grinned, raising a comprehending eyebrow. "I was hoping you'd want Italian for dessert," she said with a devilish smirk.

"Who says I don't?" Maura returned, mirroring Jane's grin and leaning back against the couch next to her, both of them staring into the open space of her office. "You know, normally I make someone take me out on at least one date before I engage in any type of coital exchange."

This time Jane grimaced at Maura's choice of words. "Really? You don't make everyone be your friend for a couple of years first? I'm the only one that had to go through that initiation?"

Maura laughed, tossing the couch pillow back at her. "You were the only one worth the wait."

Jane glanced over at her, raising a curious eyebrow. "Do you have cameras in this office?"

Maura seemed confused for a moment, glancing around them and shaking her head, but her eyes widened at what she thought was Jane's intended meaning. "No, but Jane Rizzoli, don't you try - "

She was cut off by a quick kiss along the corner of her mouth, which lingered just a second longer than necessary. Jane leaned back, grinning at her. "Don't try what?" she asked innocently. "That's how Italians say goodbye." She stood, pleased with the stolen kiss. "I'm going to head back upstairs and announce my newfound sexuality to the gang," she joked. "You want in on this announcement?"

Maura tossed the pillow at her once again, shaking her head. "Don't patronize me," she said, but her eyes suddenly cleared, becoming serious. "I really want you to give me some time to run some additional tests on Andrew Cushing's tissue," she requested. "I just need a day."

Jane sighed, but nodded. Their professional relationship had to come back into play at some point, and she hadn't expected Maura to give up her fight so easily. "Alright," she agreed. "I trust you. Complete Cushing's tox results so that you can get your professional, scientific feelings out of the way and realize that I'm _right_, okay?" Before Maura could offer a retort, she tossed the pillow back down at her with a wide grin before dodging quickly towards the door.

Maura let the pillow fall beside her, chuckling. "Don't stomp in those dreadful shoes!" she called over her shoulder, smiling as she heard Jane respond with a groan of frustration from the end of the hallway.

* * *

><p><strong>A little long, but hopefully entertaining. Sorry for the lapse in updates!<strong>

**Thanks Ren and Catherine for the read-through :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

As Maura stepped out of the elevator into the precinct lobby, she caught a glimpse of the morning sun angling through the front doors, casting bright triangles across the scuffed tile floor. It had been just on the verge of dawn when she'd made the short walk from the parking deck to her basement lab, and the sight of sunshine finally cued her synapses to begin processing the idea of coffee. She had dredged herself out of bed earlier than usual, although whether it was the Landon case nagging at her or the empty space beside her she couldn't be certain. After only a week of sleeping with Jane next to her, she realized she had gotten used to having her warmth nearby.

Heading towards the cafe, she fidgeted nervously with the ring on her finger, a sign that her nerves were exacerbated enough without the addition of caffeine. As Chief Medical Examiner, her duty was to supervise medico-legal investigations, perform autopsies, and meet with family members of the deceased. It was this latter duty, however, that she was poorest at, and it was made even harder when the details surrounding a case weren't altogether clear. Which is why her consult with Todd and Jessica Landon later that afternoon would be even more difficult than a usual.

The scent of bitter coffee and sweet syrup of the cafe contrasted greatly with the smells that wafted through her lab, and a familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Hey, Maura."

She glanced up, finding Frankie perched a few feet away at a high-top table. "Good morning," she greeted him, her pleasant tone clearly at odds with the few grumpy officers just ending their overnight shifts, who grunted as they angled their heads further into their coffee mugs.

"You're here early," he observed, stuffing a large bite of pancake into his mouth.

"I needed to get some work done downstairs," she explained. "Are you finishing up a shift?"

He shook his head. "Nope, finishing up a gym session. I'm trying to bulk up a little." He reached for a glass of chocolate milk, taking a quick sip and leaving a fine, brown mustache across his upper lip.

"Ah," Maura nodded. "The carbohydrate levels in chocolate milk are quite exceptional at restoring fibrous muscle proteins." She angled her head curiously down at his plate, studying it. "Your pancakes are shaped like tortoises," she observed, pointing toward them.

"Yeah," he echoed, chewing. "TMNT."

Maura leaned in curiously, studying the syrup-drenched layers of his breakfast. "I don't think I know that species."

Frankie paused, glancing up at her with his fork halfway to his mouth. "It's the mutant species." When Maura's eyes darted from one side to the other, clearly attempting to apply her arsenal of biological knowledge to his response, he quickly clarified: "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

"Ah," she said with a nod. "Of course."

Frankie slid his plate toward her. "You can have some of Donatello if you want."

Maura gave a slightly disdainful look down at the offering, and politely shook her head. "No thank you. You know, I used to room with a girl named Donatella at my boarding school." She smiled at the recollection. "No relation to Versace, of course. The two of us used to skinny - " she stopped, the memory suddenly blossoming fully again in her mind. "Never mind," she said hurriedly, waving it off, avoiding Frankie's curious stare.

"So," he said, clearing his throat in hopes of clearing the inappropriate possibilities that her words brought to mind. "Was there a homicide or something I didn't hear about? Were you down there autopsying a body?"

"A brain, actually."

Frankie's eyes narrowed, his fork hanging over his plate. "Ah."

"Andrew Cushing's brain, to be specific," Maura continued, taking a seat in the chair opposite him. "I couldn't do it earlier because the saline solution hadn't yet leached enough viscous fluid from the folds." She leaned into him. "Brains can be a bit slippery."

Frankie looked uncertainly at her, his mouth suddenly slack. "Oh."

Maura continued, unaware that her notion of appropriate breakfast conversation differed drastically from his. "With the results from his blood coming back positive for both Xanax and alcohol, I didn't think I needed to take a sample from it. But something about the chemical makeup of what we found didn't add up; literally, it was missing a hydrogen molecule. So I had a meeting of the minds." She chuckled at her pun, but Frankie didn't seem to catch it, and her smile faded as she continued. "Would you like to know what I found?"

The side of Frankie's lip twitched as he contemplated shaking his head. "What?" he asked warily.

"A subdural hematoma."

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't think Cushing cares about that kinda thing anymore, no?"

"A bruise," Maura clarified, gesturing enthusiastically as she leaned across the table. "And do you know what's in subdural hematomas, Frankie?"

"No," he said again, even more uncertainly, letting his fork sit on his plate with a small clink.

"Brain serum," she replied triumphantly.

"Ah." Frankie pushed his plate gently away from him, finally giving up on the idea of his pancakes. "Serum. Sounds so much like syrup."

Maura glanced down at his plate, as if weighing his remark. "It's a bit more viscous than syrup, more like thickened blood."

Frankie cringed, but kept his slight disgust to himself, unwilling to hurt Maura's feelings. "It sounds like you're... happy about this?"

"Well, we'll see. I took a sample and am testing it as we speak. The blood metabolizes slower in a hematoma, so it's a more genuine portrait of what was in Cushing's blood when he died." She paused, clearing her throat. Jane would never agree to the idea brewing in her mind, but she possibly had a shot with Frankie. "Which brings me to my next point. I have a favor to ask you."

She was more than aware of Frankie's desire to be a detective, and knew she had captured his full attention. Sure enough, he raised both eyebrows at her, curious and flattered. "Shoot."

"I need to get back inside Andrew Cushing's house."

Frankie glanced suspiciously at her, leaning back in his chair. "Why aren't you asking Jane to take you?"

"Because she wouldn't," Maura replied simply. It was true, but she was also intent on not upsetting the balance that she and Jane had struck after their argument at the crime scene. So far, they weren't doing an exceptional job at keeping their personal and professional lives separate, and Maura had no intention of ruining their first actual date.

"Then why not Frost?" Frankie asked, still unconvinced as he took another sip of his chocolate milk.

Maura fought the urge to hand him a napkin for his growing milk mustache. "Because he's her partner."

"But I'm her brother."

"Exactly," Maura said, momentarily brightening, as if Frankie were finally grasping her point. "I thought that you could utilize some competitive sibling rivalry that would be buffered by unconditional love."

"Sounds like you've given this some thought." Frankie's forehead crinkled as he finally swiped the back of his hand over his upper lip. "Jane can be harsh, but she's a good cop. Why don't you just trust her on this one?"

"Jane is an excellent cop," Maura agreed, her eyes flashing with pride. "But I'm a good scientist."

"Do you think we overlooked something at the house?" Frankie asked. "I was with the techs all afternoon." He rolled his eyes, remembering how it had been his sister who had prevented him from tagging along for questioning. "Thanks to Jane."

"I don't think you would have known what you were overlooking," Maura replied thoughtfully. "If the tests I ran come back with something other than an aneloid, then that means something else was in his bloodstream, which only imitated a Xanax-like compound."

"The bottom line is that you think someone murdered Cushing."

Maura bit her lower lip, once again fidgeting with the ring at her finger. "I don't know what I think yet. But I do think there may have been someone else in the house the night he died, which means there has to be something we've overlooked. Locard's Principle, after all."

Frankie snapped his finger. "Right, uh..." he began, as if catching on to her reference. "This is in the detective study guides..." His face finally brightened, the equivalent of a light bulb going off in his head as he raised his finger victoriously. "Locard's Principle: No matter how careful someone is, they always leave something of themselves behind or they take a part of the scene with them."

Maura smiled, refraining from correcting his misalignment of pronouns. "Correct."

Frankie glanced over at his mother, who busied herself behind the counter, then leaned across the table toward Maura, lowering his voice. "Alright, I'll help you. How about right before lunch? No one will miss us."

"Oh, thank you!" Maura exclaimed, clapping her hands once before leaning over and giving Frankie an awkward, jovial jab on his shoulder.

"What are you going to tell Jane?" he asked, resuming his breakfast.

Maura frowned, the question instantly leeching the mirth from her face. "I'm simply going to tell her I have plans for lunch," she replied casually. Before she could adequately convince herself she was capable of such a white lie, Jane loped into the cafe, fumbling with the collar of her gray suit jacket.

"Did I miss the memo?" she asked playfully as she walked over to them, placing a gentle hand on Maura's shoulder in greeting, a far cry from the kisses they had both grown accustomed to in private. "You guys doing breakfast dates now?" She gave Frankie a playful squeeze on his bicep. "Ooo, feel that chocolate milk muscle."

Frankie inched out of her grasp, giving her a frown. "Results take awhile," he replied grumpily.

"It's true," Maura confirmed, nodding. "The scaffolding within the muscles are tightening first, and won't bulk up for at least the first week."

"Thank you, Maura," Frankie said, giving Jane a pointed stare. "Some people understand what it means to add muscle." He glanced at his sister. "You know, you could stand to bulk up a little, too," he observed, squeezing her arm. "These string beans over here won't help you take down a perp."

"Actually, Jane's trapezius is quite defined," Maura pointed out, her eyes grazing over Jane's form. "Not as prominent as her abdominals or pelvic - "

"Maura," Jane cut in, giving her a quick warning glance, thankfully cutting off the diatribe before it went any lower down her body.

Maura lowered her head slightly, aware of her mistake. "Frankie's pancakes are in the shape of tortoises," she said meekly, a thin attempt at changing the subject.

"Ooo," Jane muttered, picking up his abandoned fork. "I call Michelangelo."

Frankie rolled his eyes. "Get your own breakfast," he said, yanking his utensil back from her.

She rolled her eyes back at him. "As a matter of fact, I am," she rebutted, waving at her mother. "You want a cup of coffee?" she asked Maura, glancing over at her.

"I'm not sure," Maura replied uncertainly, shaking her head.

"It's not a life or death question, Maur."

"I'm meeting with the Landons this morning," she explained. "My Gamma-aminobutyric acid receptors are already restricting."

"Is that a 'yeeeesssss' or a 'noooo'?" Jane asked, more than familiar with her roundabout answers.

Maura fidgeted again with the ring on her finger. "I'm just not cut out for this part of the job."

"What, the part that has to do with live people?" Jane asked with a grin.

Maura's nose twitched slightly, indicating that she fully understood the implied jab, but she couldn't quite disagree. "Yes. I don't see how you can sit down with living people day after day and talk to them about these types of tragedies."

Jane shrugged, not at all comfortable with that part of the job, either. "It's tough, sure. But, it comes with job, right? At the end of the day, whatever you do isn't going to bring anyone back from the dead, but you can at least help them find a little justice."

Maura nodded, but was still unconvinced, her fingers tapping repeatedly against the table. "People can be... quite daunting. The synapses of grief and anger prompt remote synaptic firing that isn't based on linear or logical thinking."

Jane smiled sympathetically down at her. Maura was indeed socially awkward, and at times, downright inept at the finer points of human emotion, but her insatiable curiosity for life instilled some warmth in her; it just took a little while to find it. "I'm sure you'll be fine," Jane said easily, placing a comforting hand over hers. "Beneath the scientific exterior - " she paused, backtracking - "_deep_beneath that scientific exterior, you're one of the most compassionate people I know. Your love for all things moleculed and compounded is just a way for you to help these families, and that will come through today with the Landons."

Maura stared up at her, and for a moment Frankie and the rest of the cafe melted into a one-dimensional backdrop. "Thank you for the positive psychological stimulation."

"The cool kids just call it a 'pep talk'." Jane smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. "And afterward, if you do a good job, I'll take you to a place with cloth napkins for lunch."

Maura's eyes darted towards Frankie's, panic already tightening her throat. "I can't do lunch today," she squeaked, slipping her hand back into her lap, a smile stretching awkwardly across her face.

"Okay," Jane shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the quick decline. "Why not?"

Maura's hand moved reflexively to her neck as she delayed her answer, her gaze darting across the table. Frankie slowly shook his head at her, familiar with her biological penchant for telling the truth. "I'm... running an errand," she offered, hoping it was a vague enough answer to dissuade any more questions.

Jane darted a look at Frankie, who simply shrugged up at her, clearly more than used to telling a white lie or two to his sister. "Uh huh," Jane said, returning her gaze to Maura. She may have only recently began to get to know the ins and outs of Maura's body, but she was more than familiar with her mind. "What sort of errand ya runnin', Maur?" Her tone was casual enough, but her eyes were taking pleasure in busting open the lie that she felt weaving itself around her.

Maura bit her lip. "I am... returning something." She swallowed, once again irritated by her inability offer a convincing lie.

"This can't end well," Frankie mumbled as he stood, chugging the last of his chocolate milk. "See ya." He gave Maura a sympathetic frown, quickly slipping out of the cafe.

Maura waved stoically, hoping that his exit would at least halt the casual, but effective interrogation Jane was performing on her. She tried vainly to change the subject, offering the first truth that popped into her head. "I missed you last night," she said, smiling slightly. The smile faded quickly, however, as she realized Jane wasn't buying it. Instead, she took a step closer to Maura, looming over her with a small, knowing grin.

"You're not telling me something."

"There's nothing... not to tell..." Maura said slowly, as if stretching out the lie would make it seem less like one. "Why don't you sit and have breakfast with me?"

Again, her attempt at distraction didn't work, and Jane took another step closer, pressing one hand firmly against the table and the other along the back of Maura's chair, effectively pinning her in place. "You are going to get one whopping case of hives along that beautiful neck of yours if you keep lying to me." She raised her eyebrows playfully, waiting for Maura's response.

Whether it was the swell of the lie finally bursting in her chest or simply the feel of Jane's lips that close to her, the gates of truth suddenly swung open: "I asked Frankie to take me back to Andrew Cushing's house this afternoon."

Maura fully expected the darkness that flashed across Jane's eyes as she processed the confession, but she decidedly didn't expect the laugh that bubbled up from her throat. "Oh, wow," Jane sighed, her chuckle fading into a curved frown, a glint of hurt in her eyes. "That is so not cool."

"I didn't want to bother you until I had hard evidence," Maura blurted, speaking fast as she tried to explain. "But, I found a hematoma this morning in Cushing's brain, which could prove that it was another substance that killed him, not a prescription overdose. I just wanted to see if we missed anything at the house."

"So you go over my head?"

Maura cocked her head thoughtfully. "Technically, Frankie isn't 'over your head'," she clarified, aware that her correction was only making things worse.

"I'm about to have _your_head," Jane said. "What, the two of you were down here eating your Honey Bunches of Hematomas and decided you would bust this case wide open?"

Whatever response Maura was about to offer was cut short by Angela, who sidled over carrying two full plates. "Good morning," she said brightly, unaware of the cloud slowly settling over the table. Maura's eyes raked over the dish in front of her: three pancakes in the shape of stars, scattered with blueberries.

"Angela, this looks lovely," she gushed, always polite, even in the throes of argument. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, thank this one," Angela replied, jerking her thumb towards Jane, who had already placed a hand to her temple, a frown curling her lips.

"Ma - "

"Apparently Janey here thinks this is a call-ahead kind of joint," she continued with a laugh as she patted her daughter on the shoulder. "Next thing I know you'll be making reservations."

"Ma - " Jane tried again, this time attempting to wave her mother away, but with little success.

"It's been years since you requested pancake shapes."

"Ma!" Jane exclaimed. "Will you just give us a minute?"

Angela shrugged, chalking her daughter's attitude up to her usual morning crankiness. "Bon appetivo," she offered with a quick smile before heading back to her post behind the counter, where a short line was once again forming.

Maura looked curiously up at Jane. "You asked your mom to make these for us?"

Jane didn't answer, instead staring grumpily down at her pancakes. "Maybe," she grumbled.

"Are these in the shape of asteroidia?" Maura asked, receiving only a blank stare in response. Whether it stemmed from residual anger or sheer incomprehension, she couldn't tell. "Starfish," she clarified. "Part of the echinoderm phylum?"

Jane rolled her eyes. "Stars, Maura. They're just stars. Like 'twinkle twinkle'."

Maura's smile came easily, but she couldn't resist a quick correction. "Technically stars don't 'twinkle', they simply - " she had the wherewithal to cut herself off, focusing instead on the sweet gesture lying on her plate. "Why the lovely breakfast?"

Jane leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms noncommittally over her chest, still harboring some annoyance. "It was supposed to be a clue to our date tonight."

Maura's eyes flashed upwards, her lower lip dropping in surprise. "What?"

Jane waved her hand harriedly towards the two plates. "A clue. To what I have planned for us tonight."

"Oh, Jane," Maura sighed, dropping her fork and putting a hand to her chest. "That is so sweet."

"Yeah, well, I'm surprised you aren't already down in the lab testing the syrup for forensic evidence," Jane replied tersely. She angled her fork over at Maura's plate, stabbing it into a pancake and piling it onto her own stack.

"Why are you taking my pancakes?" Maura asked skeptically.

"After that stunt with Frankie? You don't deserve a pancake star."

Maura sighed, tucking her napkin into her lap and picking up her fork once more, hovering it over her plate. "Jane." She didn't get a reply, but instead Jane reached over, attempting to poke her fork into another pancake. "_Jane_," Maura said again, this time brushing the intruding hand away. "Taking my pancakes isn't going to make you feel any better."

"Yes it will."

"I'm sorry, okay," she tried again, sincerity seeping from her tone. "I'm not questioning your investigation, I'm just attempting to tie up some loose ends, that's all."

"You tie up loose ends on the body and in the lab, Maura, not at my crime scene."

"Technically, it's my crime scene."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're going to go textbook on me? Fine. The crime scene is yours until you call time of death, and then it's handed over to the lead detective on duty, which would be me." She knifed through one stem of her pancake. "Chapter Fourteen, Boston Criminal Procedure Protocol."

Maura sighed, unable to argue, and more impressed with the correct notation, which she knew by heart. "Jane, I'm sorry."

Jane caught the sincerity behind the words, made more sound by the fact that Maura clearly couldn't lie to save her life. Still, the mistruth stung. "Why would you even go behind my back? And then try to lie to me? Is it worth a case of hives?"

"You know I can't take it when you're angry at me. I didn't want you to be mad at me."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"Not quite as I'd hoped."

"Uh huh." Jane sighed, plunging her fork into another pancake. "And you thought you and Frankie could pull a Sherlock and Watson? What were you thinking not coming to me?"

"I don't know!" Maura exclaimed. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I know that this case is all I've been able to think about since we found Cushing. And I keep waiting for the science to convince my brain that it's taking things too far, but it's not working and I don't know what to do other than to keep reaching for every rational explanation that I can because there has to be a rational explanation for why nothing about Cushing's death makes any sense to me. One hydrogen, Jane - chemical compounds make a difference!"

Jane raised both eyebrows, surprised by both the speed with which Maura's frustration spewed towards her and the vehemence with which she shared it. "Whoa, whoa, okay. It looks like your chemical compounds are about to explode." She thought for a moment. "When did you hatch out this plan with Frankie?"

"Just now, before you got here."

Jane glanced up at her, surprised, but also a bit sated. "So, you had this sneaky plan of yours thought up a full ten minutes before you broke down and told me about it?"

"Yes."

Jane smirked at her. "God, you'd be horrible at undercover."

"No, I wouldn't," Maura protested. "That's different. It's a professional truth, uncharacterized by the usual synapses of lying. It's a different brain engagement entirely."

"I guess there are worse things than dating a girl who can't lie," Jane offered. She gestured down at their plates, making the most out of Maura's unique inability. "Do you like the pancakes?"

Maura smiled over at her, aware of the test she was being given. "I love them."

"Do you like this suit jacket?"

Her eyelid twitched. "I think you look beautiful _despite_that suit jacket."

Jane couldn't hold back a laugh, but her face quickly turned back to a frown, and she waved her fork threateningly at her. "Don't ever lie to me again."

"Never," Maura promised.

Jane nodded, satisfied, and vaguely aware that when it came to Maura, she couldn't stay angry for long. "Look, if it will help you face the Landons, how about we take another look at the house before they get here? Do we have enough time?"

Maura's eyebrows rose, as if unsure of whether Jane was genuinely offering help. "Really?"

"Yeah. I never get a chance to see the logical, rational Maura Isles acting on her gut instinct." She nodded down at Maura's plate. "Finish your stars, and we'll go."

"You took one of my stars," Maura pointed out, motioning between their plates. "I had three and now I have two."

"Who are you, Count von Count?" Jane asked as she reluctantly handed back the pancake in question and one more. "Look. Now you have four."

Maura disregarded the dig, and gave her a concentrated frown. "Let me tell you about the brain autopsy I did this morning."

Jane glanced up at her, gesturing to her plate. "Maura, I'm eating."

"Well, you're not eating brain," Maura rationalized. "Although many cultures do consider brain and other internal organs a delicacy."

Jane sighed, her appetite all but disappearing, and she plopped the rest of her pancakes down on Maura's plate. "And now you have six."

* * *

><p>For the third time in less than a week, Jane navigated the narrow streets of Andrew Cushing's neighborhood, dodging stodgily parked cars and the occasional abandoned trash can. "Frankie, you ever had a beat around here?" she asked, glancing at her brother in the rearview mirror.<p>

He met her eyes coolly. "Nah." He paused, but Jane could tell by the way his lips pursed that he was clearly annoyed at being brought on their excursion. "I don't know why you wanted me to come along," he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was impinging upon your lunch plans," Jane replied airily. "Oh, wait, this _was _your lunch plan, wasn't it?"

Maura rolled her eyes at the banter, having already heard most of it back at the precinct when Jane dragged Frankie along with them. "I think you've made your point, Jane. Frankie and I have both apologized profusely. And I agreed to buy you one of those gargantuan Pennsylvania submarines you enjoy so much."

Jane's eyes brushed over her. "A _Philly cheese steak_, Maura. And you don't know what you're missing."

Maura shrugged, turning her nose up at the crumpled wrapper that sat in the middle console, evidence of her contrite apology. "I can smell what I'm missing, thank you very much."

Jane pulled her squad car along the curb in front of Cushing's small house. "Oh, I didn't think you could smell it over the scent of lies and betrayal," she quipped, getting in one more jab as she flicked off the ignition.

"Just like Ma," Frankie sighed. "Always a martyr." He shook his head, grinning, knowing that by comparing Jane to their mother, he indeed got the last word. He shut his car door quickly, cutting off any attempted response, but Jane managed a quick glare.

Maura used the brief moment of solitude to reach over and squeeze Jane's thigh. "Are you quite finished?" she asked with a smile.

Jane eyed her hand carefully, sneaking a glance at Frankie as he rounded the back of the car, peering up at Cushing's house. "I don't know," she answered slowly, testing her boundaries. "I think maybe you'll have to make it up to me... later tonight...?"

Maura chuckled at her reticence. "Is that a question or a command?" she asked, her innocent expression turning suddenly primal as she nibbled her lower lip.

Any response Jane concocted in her head lodged in her throat as her eyes ran over Maura's lips, but it was the quick knock on the trunk made her jump, and she glared at Frankie out of the back window. Maura's face quickly morphed back to its professional state as she climbed out of the car, clearing her throat and bypassing Frankie with an overly professional nod.

He watched as Maura marched towards the house, then turned back to Jane, his forehead wrinkled in thought. "If I remember correctly, you're weaving your own lies," he said lowly, tossing his head toward Maura. "Case in point: how long are you going to lie about the fact that you and Maura are actually together?"

Jane craned her neck at him with a force that almost pulled a muscle. "You'd be better off if you put those detective skills to use on this case, and not on my private life, little brother."

Frankie sighed, shrugging. "Whatever. If I were with a girl like Maura, I'd be telling everyone."

"Which is probably why you'll never be with a girl like Maura."

"Jane, you have the key!" Maura called, and for once Jane was grateful for that polite, if bossy tone.

Jangling the keys in her hand, she tossed her head back at Frankie, the responsibility of being an older sister preventing her from completely ignoring the truth he had brought up. "I know where you're coming from, Frankie. Let me do things in my own time, okay?"

"Fine," he said, seemingly satisfied. "But until then, I"ll just keep telling Ma that you like it when she sets you up with guys from the neighborhood."

Jane reached out and pushed his shoulder before walking briskly toward Maura, who stood impatiently on the front stoop, a hand on her hip and the other holding her black medical bag. "I'm giving us half an hour," Jane reminded her as she dangled the keys in front of her. "That's all."

"Of course," Maura replied absently, slipping past her as she opened the door. Her eyes grazed the room, much as it had the night they had found Cushing, but this time she was unsure of exactly where to begin. "When we processed the scene before, we looked at it from two angles," she said slowly.

Jane stepped in behind her, pulling a pair of gloves from her pocket. "Right, we confirmed that there was no forced entry and no foul play, so then we made the logical assumption that it was a suicide." She tossed another pair back to Frankie, who kept the door propped open, allowing some additional light into the room.

"So now," Maura continued, turning towards the front door, her own hands already gloved, a finger in the air as she paced thoughtfully. "Now we need to look at it as if someone were deliberately making it look like a suicide." She walked over to Jane, pushing her back out the door and toward the wooden porch.

"Maura - " Jane protested, but the door closed in her face with a hard clack.

"Role play," Maura explained through the wooden barrier. "Pretend as if you're the supposed perpetrator." She motioned towards Frankie, who watched her with a wary eye. "Frankie, you act as Cushing."

Jane sighed. "We're assuming the killer knew Cushing, then, since there were no signs of a break in?" She leaned closer to the door, straining to hear Maura's response, but when she didn't get one she raised her hand to the doorbell. It had been dusted the night Cushing was found, and had yielded a kaleidoscope of half-prints. If she were a killer, she wouldn't want to ward Cushing off by wearing a pair of gloves, but she wouldn't want to leave her prints, either. She bypassed the doorbell, and instead raised her hand to knock.

As the door swung open, she stared at Frankie, who raised his eyebrows at her. "Why hello, psycho killer," he said deeply.

"Frankie, invite her inside, as if you know her," Maura guided. "The swelling I found in Cushing's brain wasn't consistent with a traumatic injury. He had to have known the person at his door, and then let them inside." Frankie extended his hand towards the entryway, stepping back to allow Jane to enter. "Good, now Jane follow him toward the living room."

Jane rolled her eyes, following directions, but turned to look at Maura expectantly. "Who are you, Scorsese?" she asked. "Would you like to enlighten me on my motivation and have hair and makeup come powder my nose?"

"Your snarkiness isn't helping," Maura chided, but her attention wasn't deterred for long. "Now, if the poison wasn't delivered intravenously, it had to be ingested or inhaled. "How?"

"Didn't you say he died at around 2:30am?" Jane asked. "Who would he know well enough to let in that late? And again, who would have motive to off Cushing? He didn't allude to the fact that he knew anything about Landon's death."

Maura shook her head, seemingly at a loss. "I don't know," she replied, disappointment edging her voice. "Depending on the half-life of the substance, it could have entered the body before 2:30am. We may not have an accurate time of death."

"So, he could've let someone in at a normal hour, and the poison wouldn't have kicked in until hours later?" Frankie asked. "So the person had to wait around right, to make it look like a suicide?"

"If he was even poisoned," Jane pointed out, playing devil's advocate. "Your tox results haven't come back yet."

Maura's eyes met hers, the sudden ambivalence in them almost palpable, and Jane resisted the urge to put her hand on her shoulder. "Hey, but we're here, right?" she asked lightly, hoping to assuage Maura's frustration with what little answers they were offering. She gave her a small, confident smile before moving back into her assigned place, turning her attention back to Frankie. "Might as well continue this little role play."

Frankie nodded, appeasing Maura by moving towards the recliner where Cushing's body had been found, seemingly ready for his next command.

Jane smiled, opening her mouth to offer another supportive word, but it caught in her chest as a scuffle of papers sounded behind her, making her jump and reach automatically for her gun. As she caught sight of the scaly blue end of Cushing's lizard, however, all pretense of bravery failed her, and she made a bee line behind Maura. "Holy crap!" she yelled. Frankie laughed, but took a strategic step away from the lizard at it shimmied behind another tower of stacked magazines.

"Oh, hello," Maura cooed lightly, concerned as she bent toward it. "What are you still doing here?" As her gloved hand reached down for it, the animal slid down the table and toward the back hallway, it's tale sashaying behind it. "You would have thought the landlord would have called animal control," she said, cocking her head and starting after it.

"Maura, forget the lizard," Jane called, waving her hand at her. "Remember, we have work to do here? Your vision, and all that?"

"I just need to get him into his cage," Maura replied. "He can't stay here."

"Oh no," Jane said, wagging her finger. "That thing is not coming with us."

"Yes, he is," Maura argued, continuing down the hallway. "And it's an Agame Mwanzae, not a 'thing'."

"That _thing_is not slizzarding around in my car!" Jane called after her, shooting Frankie a look. "Why can't she be like other girls?" she mumbled. "Puppies and kittens."

"Well, you wouldn't be dating her then," Frankie reminded her with a grin.

Jane opened her mouth to give him another verbal warning, but a loud thud echoed from the back hallway, followed by a quick, surprised scream. Before her brain registered much more than those two sounds, which caused her heart to leap fully into her throat, Jane had her gun raised and was halfway down the hallway. "Maura!" she yelled, her face hardening as she followed the sounds of shuffling footsteps coming from a back room. She poked her head in, aiming her weapon, and was met with the sight of Maura untangling herself from a somewhat short, balding man.

"Hands up!" Jane commanded.

"Whoa, whoa," the man called, raising his hands and taking a wide step away from Maura. "Calm down, I'm Jay Winston."

"Who?" Maura asked, still somewhat frazzled, a hand over her heart. "Why were you in the closet?"

Jane cocked an eyebrow, not immediately placing the name, but she grimaced as it pinged somewhere in the back of her brain, lighting up a memory. "Todd Landon's private investigator?" she asked, not bothering to lower her gun.

The man nodded, his tiny brown eyes still on the barrel that was aimed at him. "Technically, I work for Jessica Landon," he clarified. "But hey, you're the one holding the gun."

"I'll lower it when you tell me what the hell you're doing here."

He shrugged, as if weighing his options, the wisp of hair covering his bald spot shaking with the movement. "That's privileged information between me and my client," he replied. "You want details, you'll need a subpoena."

Jane rolled her eyes, lowering her gun back to her waist and taking a step toward him. His khaki's were rumpled, his shirtsleeves rolled up just below his elbow. Jane could practically envision the fast food wrappers that more than likely covered his dashboard; he was everything she imagined a private investigator to be, which did nothing to raise him any higher in her regard."You don't want me to book you for interfering at a crime scene, you'll start talking." She turned to Frankie. "Do me a favor, and ask Frost to get another car here."

He nodded, giving once last uncertain look at Winston before exiting, his phone already at his ear.

Winston rolled his eyes at the formality, but answered her question. "I'm here recovering some stolen documents," he offered cryptically.

"What documents?" Jane asked.

"Unfortunately, that's privileged information between my client and me," he responded, the same excuse rolling easily off his lips, as if he were used to using it.

"DNA results?" Maura asked, glancing at him.

"You think Charles Landon would have submitted to DNA testing?" Winston huffed. "You're living in a dream world. You and Andrew Cushing. Only he finally woke up from his little dreamland." He shook his head. "Only it drove him crazy."

"If Cushing didn't know the truth, then why would he kill Charles Landon?" Frankie piped up from behind Jane. "If he wanted the truth to come out, it seems like leaving Landon alive would be the best thing for Cushing to do."

"Charles Landon would never divulge that information," Winston responded, giving Frankie an up and down. "The rich have a way of keeping this kind of thing a secret."

"What, like getting you to stealing documents for them?" Jane asked. "What exactly makes you think Cushing had anything incriminating, anyway?"

"_Recovering_ stolen documents," he corrected. "Look, you want to clear this up, you can give the Landons a call, alright?"

"Oh, I will," Jane assured him, nodding as she took a step closer and grabbed his elbow. "Until then, you'll be hanging out with me at the precinct, how's that?" She smirked at him, glad she had the foresight to call for her partner. Packing Winston into a car along with Maura, Frankie, and an exotic lizard was not exactly the professional gesture she was shooting for; her squad car would resemble a clown car more than an official BPD vehicle. "It must feel good, leeching money from the wealthy?" she asked as she guided him to the living room, chuckling as he wrenched his arm away from her and sunk into the couch like a petulant kid.

"Feels just as good as leeching money from Boston taxpayers," he replied evenly. "Look, you and me are both shooting for the same outcome. To prove that Andrew Cushing murdered Charles Landon."

Jane shook her head, eyeing him suspiciously. "That your official opinion?" she asked.

"What other option is there? A man like Landon didn't always make friends everywhere he went, but he certainly didn't make any enemies. You've talked to his friends, family, you know that. Cushing was the only one with any motive, and the break-in at the Landons proves he was desperate to get the last piece of evidence proving that Landon was his father."

"Was Landon his father?" Jane asked.

Winston kept quiet, refusing to answer. "You're a detective," he replied. "What do you think?"

"I've got him," Maura said pleasantly, walking into the living room and holding up a small carrying case, where a scaled tail peeked out of it. "The poor thing hasn't eaten in a couple of days, which is unfortunate considering his digestive system metabolizes at the rate of two thousand kcals per day."

"Are you animal control?" Winston asked, looking up at her, dumbfounded.

Maura balked, pursing her lips together, seemingly offended by the conjecture. "No, I am not," she replied testily. "I am Dr. Maura Isles, Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts."

Jane smirked. "She only volunteers at animal control on the weekends."

Maura rolled her eyes towards her. "Once," she emphasized. "I did _once_."

Frankie poked his head in the front door. "Frost is here," he called.

Jane glanced down at Winston, smiling winningly at him. "Your chariot awaits." The begrudging smack of his lips didn't bother her, and she smirked as she followed him towards the door, a saunter to her step. She glanced back over her shoulder as she fished the keys from her pocket, but Maura wasn't behind her. "Maura, come on!"

"I'm just grabbing his food," Maura called, her voice trailing from the kitchen, where she was busy fishing through several cluttered cabinets. "You have no idea how expensive mulberry mulch is at the specialty stores." She pulled open a storage bin near the trash can, where she found a small clear container filled with mulched leaves and berries. "Aha. Mulch." Popping open the container, she caught sight of a plain white envelope nestled inside, half-buried. She cocked her head, curiously nudging it with her still gloved hand.

Jane's voice echoed impatiently from the living room. "Maura, let's go," she called.

"Jane?" Maura returned, her tone bewildered as she peered into the envelope, where a wad of cash rested abandoned inside it.

"What?" Jane asked, exasperated, as she clunked into the kitchen, impatiently throwing her hands up in the air. "We can buy that lizard all the weird leaves you need after I get Winston to the precinct." She stopped short at the spread of cash that Maura held out in front of her, and her eyes widened. "Whoa, does it eat dollars?" she asked incredulously.

"Not that I know of," Maura replied tentatively. "This certainly is a unique deposit method."

"Cushing had a bank account," Jane said, kneeling. "Frost and I checked his accounts, but he hadn't withdrawn anything in the past month aside from a few measly amounts. Where the hell did this come from?"

Maura peered at the container where she discovered it, still dumbfounded. "Why did he store it in his lizard mulch?"

Jane turned her head toward the living room, where Winston had sat only a moment before, and felt a new suspicion creeping up her spine. "I wonder if this is what Winston was looking for?"

Maura sniffed the envelope, her nose scrunching in thought. "Do you smell that?" she asked.

"Probably not," Jane replied uncertainly. "You're the one with a nose like a search dog. You tell me."

Maura looked as if she were going to counter the canine comment, but instead continued. "It's smells like nicotine," she replied, eyeing the envelope.

"Are you telling me the lizard has a smoking habit?" Jane asked incredulously. She reached for the envelope, but Maura pulled it quickly back from her.

"No, no, don't touch it!" she said harshly.

"What are you, playing 'Finders Keepers'?" Jane asked, reaching for it again.

Maura kept it out of reach, pushing away Jane's reaching hand. "Not without gloves," she explained, her mind already lurching forward. "Liquid nicotine can be used as an acute poison. I think I may have found what I was looking for."

Jane's mouth dropped, but she put a hand to her temple. "So he _was_ poisoned? Intentionally?"

"We'll see if the sample I took this morning matches this," Maura replied, holding up the envelope before placing it back inside the container in which it was found. "But why would his money be doused in nicotine?"

Jane shook her head. "At this point, I don't think I know much of anything anymore. Come on, let's get Winston to an interview room and you back to the lab." She reached a hand down, helping Maura to her feet and took the container from her. "I'll carry this. You get the damn lizard." This case was becoming more than burdensome; it was becoming downright bizarre.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading... and reviewing... :)<strong>


End file.
